Glass Wings
by fiesa
Summary: When two members of the New York Clave go missing, all of the hunters have to fight to bring them back. Sometimes family is a gift and sometimes a burden. A Night School/Mortal Instruments Crossover, Rese/Cass, Clary/Jace, Alec/Magnus, Isabelle/Simon, Maryse, Robert, Daemon.
1. Prologue - A Hall in Alicante

**Glass Wings**

_Summary: When two members of the New York Clave go missing, all of the hunters have to fight to bring them back. Sometimes family is a gift and sometimes a burden. A Night School/Mortal Instruments Crossover, Rese/Cass, Clary/Jace, Alec/Magnus, Isabelle/Simon, Maryse, Robert, Daemon._

_Warning: see above. _

_Set: Story-unrelated, roughly set after the first MI series. Will contain plot elements of both original stories._

_Disclaimer: The Mortal Instrments belong to Cassandra Clare, Night School is property of Svetlana Chmakova._

_A/N: For Snowlia, and for everyone else who thinks these two worlds fit each other. And to those who love both – or either._

* * *

**Prologue – A Hall in Alicante**

"Bring them here, Amatis."

Nobody calls her by her last name, as if there was an insult hidden in between the words that could not already be read from the harshness of the Inquisitor's voice. Amatis Greymark has not changed at all except that she has. Her once-vibrant, dark hair has turned grey, as if to match her name. There are lines in her face and her shoulders are bent. As if she has to carry the weight of the world. Nobody has placed it on her, she thinks. There is no contempt in her but no pity, either. Amatis is one of the people who feel guilty no matter how little fault they have. And besides, all of them have things they regret, one or another.

Small, brittle.

The twins stand in the middle of the hall, tiny in the marble splendor of the Hall of Accords, without touching. Still. There is a connection, she feels it instinctively, something that links them together and that goes beyond words. Beyond blood, even.

"There still is the matter of these children."

Michael's children, she thinks. Robert at her side is still as stone, has barely said a word throughout the entire Conclave. Both of them know they are not there because their opinion matters. Anything but. The twins have the same light, blonde hair, though the girl's seems darker. Dark eyes. Small faces. Maryse misses the weight of Max in her arms, suddenly and sharply. Yes, what to do with them? There are more than enough orphaned children in Idris, more than enough in Alicante. Angel, the world is full of them, be they mundane or nephilim. She hopes Hodge remembered to turn on the night light in Isabelle's room. She hopes he took away Alec's book, otherwise he would read until he fell asleep.

"My wife surely would agree to take in the boy," someone offers. Maryse's eyes dart over the hall's crowd – Frederic Hunt, lean and gnarled. He fought on the right side. The thought is poisonous. There shouldn't be sides left but some things can never be undone. "Wayland did train them, didn't he?"

Amatis lifts her hand, hesitatingly, she never will speak freely to the Conclave again. "I would… I would like to take care of her." Her hand, having its own mind, hovers over the girl's shoulder, lingers to touch her cheek. Yes, it would be a solution. It is too much to ask of any nephilim to take in both children at once. But Amatis will be kind and with Frederic, the boy would have the chance to-

"Don't," the boy says. His voice hard and clear and rings through the entire hall, "you dare touching her."

Maryse sees it although she doubts the Inquisitor can.

"I'll take them both."

She ignores Robert's startled movement of surprise as she walks forward. Husband, is he? Max was their last try – her last, desperate move to mend what was broken.

"I'll care for them." She does not say _as if they were my own children._

"You already have three children," the Inquisitor says and frowns. Her blue eyes are cold. For her, Maryse can feel pity. And hate. "You are banned from Idris, don't forget."

"I haven't. They will come with us, to New York." They will have to make do. Somehow.

"Both of them." Imogen makes it sound like she just said the skies had split and it was raining frogs. "Does your husband agree?"

Robert clears his throat and steps forward, comes to stand next to her. She does not look at him. She has fought for seven years now. She is weary. "We will be the parents to these children."

Grateful, she lets him help her. They are trying to remain friends, to keep the last pieces of their sanity intact. It is only them, in a house full of shadows and memories. Their children are there, yes, and Hodge, but overall, it is them on their own. Sometimes, it is hard. On other occasions she knows she loves him, even if he does not love her anymore.

…

She leaves the Hall of Accords two hours later.

In the shadows of the marble columns Amatis is waiting; the children small and pale in the afternoon sunlight. Maryse kneels down in front of them.

"My name is Maryse," she tells them; she knows her voice often sounds harsh but she tries. She does not want to scare them further, drive them against the wall. The damage already has been done, she thinks, and then she thinks: _Why did I do this? _A place that is not her home, children she barely sees because she has too much work, her people do not trust her because she was in Valentine's Circle. Last thing she needs are two traumatized children to add to her gallery of a broken home. She tries to smile. They stir something in her, deep inside. "You will stay with me and my family from now on."

She waits, for an eternity. Two pairs of eyes glance back at her. Then the girl takes a step, gingerly, her arms wrap around Maryse's neck. Sweet-smelling hair brushes her cheek. She embraces the girl and feels for the boy's hand. He lets her hold it. Maryse Lightwood stands there and feels the desperation in the small arms, the sorrow in the trembling little hand in hers. The girl is lighter than even Isabelle.

"Let's go home," she tells them.

She carries Teresa out of the Hall of Accords and Jonathan follows her, his hand still tucked into hers.


	2. A Church in New York

**Chapter 1 – A Church in New York**

"Dang," Clary said, and Rese almost smiled. She surveyed the damage: nothing lost, at least, except for two perfectly good angel blades.

"Could have been worse."

"You tell me." Clary grumbled, sheathing her last blade and tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "I don't think they were meant to explode like that."

She was still experimenting with her rune powers, this girl, and Rese had to give her that much: a year and few months into being a nephilim and she had already learned how to move, act and think like one. She was a shadowhunter alright, just like them.

"Actually, they sometimes do," Teresa told her new sister. They weren't sisters by blood, even though they first had thought they were. Her heart still ached for Jace when she thought of the months the little, red-haired girl and her twin had been suffering, heart-broken, over something that had been one great lie. For Teresa, it still hadn't really settled: the weight, the name-change from Wayland to Lightwood to Morgenstern and, finally, to Herondale. What was even worse was her heart: it felt raw and edged, as if Valentine, even from his grave, still was able to hold it and twist it neatly, a pleasant smile on his face. He had a way, their father, to hurt the people who trusted him most. And he was dead now. As usual, the guilt mixed painfully with a feeling of relief. Jace's pale face, his bloodless expression, still had her waking up shivering and sweating night by night. _He almost died._ Their father had killed him, and it was nothing she would ever forget.

Neither of the siblings had attended Valentine Morgenstern's funeral. Jace had loved their father. He had felt guilty over not being able to detach himself from him, guilty because he still wanted him to be proud of him, no matter what he had done to them and to Clary. Teresa had always thought that her brother was far too soft-hearted for his own good: but it was why she loved him, anyway. The man that raised them had not been a father to them. He had trained them, had taught them, but Valentine had not been able to love. As a child, she had desperately wished for him to love them, her and Jace. Somehow this feeling had gotten lost. So if she had not attended the funeral of the man she had believed to be her father, she had done it out of the bitter knowledge that, until the end, she had not been able to be what he had wanted her to. Despite everything, the thought hurt. He would have wanted her to attend, so she stayed away. It was her own, last act of revenge on a man she would never, ever be able to satisfy, not even in his death. Even now, knowing he had not been their real father, she could not change what she felt.

Jace was similar, of course, they were twins. But in Clary, her brother had found an anchor. Since he had gotten to know her he had changed, slowly but inevitably. He had become softer, more thoughtful, his actions were purposeful now and his smile less sarcastic and more and more true. Obviously, he and Clary were perfect for each other. Teresa did not begrudge them their happiness – Jace looked so much more alive, so much more real nowadays, not the distant fighter but a human being one could almost reach out to and touch. And while she really liked the girl – she could not help but feel left behind. The more Jace gave himself to Clary, the more Teresa lost him and it was hard not to feel resentment. But she could see Jace was happy. Especially after Clary had saved Jace, had made him come back to life by crashing Valentine's show. For that alone, she would have Teresa's eternal gratitude.

So now, somehow, it all added up to straight numbers while she forever would be the odd one out: Simon and Isabelle, Jace and Clary, Magnus and Alec. Even Maia and Jordan. And everything she felt was too complex to puzzle out, especially now, so she did not want to think of it._ Not ever_. Teresa focused on the street before her, shaking her head determinedly. She would rather feel alone and lonely than hate-filled and destructive, her father's example was nothing she coveted to follow.

"They really do?" Clary looked disgusted. "I so need new sneakers. Anyway."

"Where's Izzy, by the way?" Teresa asked and started down the alley again. Clary followed her on her heels. The runes on her bare arms glowed softly when they met the light from the street lamps, Teresa was pretty sure nobody else could see the two of them. They were glamoured heavily enough. But it was pretty, the way the light broke on Clary's dark-red locks and her even face. Clary was pretty, in a timeless, eternal way: pale skin and red hair and green eyes, expressive, deep, her small, delicate figure and her artist's hands. Teresa did not make the mistake of underestimating her. They all had been training the girl, Alec, Izzy, her and Jace. Clary was, in a way, a perfect blend of everything they all were and were capable of, she combined all their fighting experiences, their knowledge about darkness, shadows, night creatures and demons in one person. She had Alex' caution, Izzy's courage, Maryse's intuition, Robert's gift of compromises and Jace's ability to see straight though the enemy. And Teresa? If there was something of herself in Clary, Rese could not see it.

"Out," Clary said, rather vaguely, and they exchanged a glance. "_Out_ meaning at Simon's, probably." The little redhead shrugged. "They're getting along pretty well. I thought they would be fire and ice rather than sky and sea."

Rese sighed, both because of Izzy and because of Clary's metaphors. "It's almost disgustingly harmonic these days."

"You," Clary accused her, "don't complain. Why don't you get a boyfriend as well?"

She snorted, it was an old argument. "Where from?"

"I'm sure Jordan knows a few at Praetor Lupus who might be interested. It's not that you're not pretty, Rese, you know that."

"Yeah. Well."

She did not say _I've never been in love before, I don't know how it feels and how it is supposed to feel. _She did not say _Looking at you, and Izzy, and Maia, and Alec, and all the pain it caused, why should I even want a boyfriend? _

Clary shook her head woefully. "You could annoy the hell out of Jace, getting one."

Teresa could not help but laugh. "Wouldn't that be a sight!"

"I'd love to listen to the shovel-talk the poor guy would receive…"

"He wouldn't."

"He'd find a way. Sometimes I think he really has a sister complex, hasn't he?"

"Runs in the family," Rese informed her. "Look at Alec and Izzy. I remember when she started seeing that one guy from the Fairy Court, I can tell you…"

They continued on, Clary giggling, Rese smirking. And it felt normal: walking along a dark street, smiling and talking about boyfriends and brothers. It felt like they _were_ normal. _Almost_. But from the two of them, Clary was the one who was normal, not her. Sometimes Teresa feared that her father really managed to drill it into her, more so than into Jace, even.

Because Clary was the living proof that Jace could love someone else than her, while Rese still was stuck in the limbo between her father's calm cruelty and the warmth that had been her family for more than nine years now.

…

"Church," Max told them with all the honesty and seriousness a ten-years-old boy possessed, "Is a ninja-cat."

"You've been reading too much Naruto," Alec said and mussed his younger brother's hair in passing. The boy's forehead creased as he got ready to defend himself.

"Why so?" Jace heard himself ask. There was a time when the boy had just been a small sibling, sweet but annoying. Now he realized he actually listened to Max' stories, they ranged from fantastic to actually interesting. Jace leaned back into his arm chair. The fire in the libraries' fire place was warm and crackled soothingly. Hodge's empty desk was still hard to look at. Maryse had promised to see to a new tutor, especially since Max and Clary both needed schooling, but she'd been so busy the past weeks she had not yet found the time. As soon as there was someone new, he supposed, the familiarity of the desk would vanish, replaced by other scrolls and newer books, pens and book-marks and folders and.

"Well, for once, he can move without being heard…"

Max began to explain, his eyes shining. It was so good to have him back, even now, a year later. The weeks after the attack on the City of Glass, after which Max had been in a coma for the serious head injury he had received, had left them all edgy and worried. Now it was as if nothing had happened but the angry, red scar under his dark hair still was a testament to what they almost had lost. Tentatively, Jace reached down to feel the scar on his own chest. Valentine had really killed him. Clary had called him back. Rese had almost died in the valley where she had fought the other Jonathan.

_Rese had almost died, too. _

They had been so close, his twin and he, she had always known what he felt. He felt guilty when he thought about the events of these days, how his first thought had been for Clary, only for her, and not for his twin sister. He loved Teresa, no doubt. But he loved her differently from the way he loved Clary, and there was no way he would be able to change that. Somehow the little red-headed girl had become a part of him so deeply he could not separate himself from her. Still, his twin sister always would be a part of him.

"Jace," Alec interrupted him, edging around the corner of the door as if he disliked stepping into the well-lit room. "Are the girls still out?"

"I haven't heard them returning," he said, stopping himself from snapping at his parabatai, like, _how am I supposed to know?_ It is not that he was angry. It was just what they did. As a proof, Alec grinned.

"And you would have known if Clary had, wouldn't you."

Jace turned his eyes on his dark-haired best friend and smirked. "I rejoice to see you finally understand the scope of my awesomeness, Alexander Lightwood."

"Duh." Alec snorted, Jace grinned. Max frowned. "Sorry, little one," Jace said. "Go on. We did not mean to interrupt you."

The interruption continued in form of a tall, lean woman who entered the library, a dark-skinned man with black dreadlocks and a boy with freckles and red hair in her wake.

"Alexander? Jace? Where are the girls?"

"Out hunting," Alec answered, frowning. Jace bit his tongue as to not blurt out that Izzy probably was hunting a different kind of prey than Clary and Rese were.

Maryse looked disappointed. "I should have told you, I suppose, but I forgot. Boys, these are new residents at the Institute. Daemon, Cassidy – these are my sons. Alexander, Jonathan and Max."

Even Max seemed alert as the introduction ended. The older man was rather strong-muscled than tall, he seemed ageless. He was wearing plain jeans and a dark leather jacket. There were no visible weapons on him, which made Jace frown. Also, he could imagine Izzy would have something to say about his dreads. The boy was younger, dressed in similar jeans and a sweatshirt. He was their age, approximately, and as tall as Jace. Green eyes behind rimless glasses regarded them warily.

"They will be staying with us. Daemon offered to teach all of you."

Jace swallowed his comments and shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you." He nodded to Cassidy shortly. "Hi."

"Hello." Cassidy's answer was equally guarded.

"Cassidy's my student," Daemon answered the unspoken question. "He will be training with yours, if you don't mind."

Maryse nodded indifferently and still anything but. "I am sure they will get along well."

Jace eyed the other boy. Cassidy stared back.

…

There was one advantage in having a big-time criminal as a father, Cassidy often thought: there was not much that could shock you anymore. Two nephilim, one his age, one perhaps two years older, staring at him with a scrutinizing, weighting gaze? Not so scary, pardon me. The little boy was a bit shier and much less hostile. Perhaps the reason, he supposed, was because he was their age approximately. He could completely and entirely understand their urge to mark their territory. He would have done the same.

Daemon and Maryse Lightwood had moved over to the empty desk and seemed engrossed in a conversation. From the way Daemon held himself, Cassidy could see he was at ease. There was no danger here. The fact that they were in the middle of an Institute could not calm his nerves as much as the sight of his guardian silently conversing with the tall woman. There was too much he had already seen.

"Where are you from?" The blonde boy, Jace, started the conversation. Odd enough, but he thought he could see the interpersonal dynamics: Jace was the attacker, Alec had his back. _Parabatai, _he thought. Max lingered on the sidelines, too young to be included but too old to not feel curious. An image of Marina flashed through his mind. _Take care, little one. _Well, Nadia and Terrence would make sure she was fine, and Ten, Jay and Jaq would be, too. He'd felt sorry to leave them behind. It had been for their sake_, _he reminded himself. He was protecting them, nothing more.

"Europe," he offered.

"And his English is really good. He's a Brit," the younger boy said, a mixture of surprise and condescension evident in his tone.

The elder one shook his head, though. "No."

"Ireland," Cassidy specified before they could ask further. "Republic of."

"Of course." Both boys snorted. "Why are you here?"

The inquisition continued. He played dumb. "Because Daemon is, of course." Too late he realized the fact that he called his teacher by his first name gave him away.

"He's not your father."

"No."

There was something to be said about letting them draw the information from him bit by bit. He enjoyed it, perhaps a little too much. The spark in their eyes told him they felt the same about him. He should ask a question, too, just to turn them away from the fact that he knew everything about them – that was, everything that was known. But he reigned himself in. _Patience, Cass._

"Where are your parents?" A blunt question, uttered from Jace, again. _Jonathan Herondale. I've heard a lot about you, and perhaps you, of all, should not be allowed to ask me this. _The irony made him grin inwardly.

"City of Bones."

"Dead?"

"Yes."

Or as good as, he thought. He did not say: _My father, actually, is imprisoned in the Silent City for treason against the European Clave. There, have it: we are the same. _

The boys' hard glances softened.

"Do they have special hunting techniques in Ireland?" Alec was the one who took them forward a step.

"I don't know," he admitted, taken aback by the sudden change of topic. "I'd have to see yours."

"We'll show you if you teach us some of yours," the elder boy offered. The younger one nodded, hostility gone, but weariness still clear in his eyes. Cassidy was reminded of Terrence, and how he always accessed his opponents wordlessly before choosing his strategy. Caution remained, on both sides: they had just gotten to know each other. And yet. Despite the fact that his father was rotting away in a prison cell in the Silent City, despite the fact that Daemon and he had been called to New York on short notice and Cassidy had been forced to leave everything he had known behind – he felt a grin tug at his lips.

"Deal."

"Deal," they echoed.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he would learn like this place.

The doors flew open with a loud crash and everyone looked up. A girl stood there, wearing a short, black dress, black leggings and silver-and-red high heels, her hands on her hips. Her black hair fell down her shoulders in a dark wave as she regarded him like a particularly nasty insect.

"And who are you."

"Cassidy," Alexander said and made a gesture towards the girl in the door. "My sister, Isabelle. Izzy, this is Cassidy."

Her gaze turned from watchful to curious within seconds and Cassidy had the feeling that he would find himself answering many, many questions for the next few minutes. He smiled on the inside. He had not yet met someone else who was on par with him when it came to avoiding questions and something told him that Isabelle Lightwood would be a worthy opponent.

…

"You'll never guess," Izzy greeted Clary and Teresa as they stepped out of the elevator cage. Now that nobody could see her except for her two friends she had discarded the high heels and pulled her hair into a tight braid. Clary's hair was in disarray while Rese was completely calm, they seemed to have run into a few demons but obviously it hadn't been anything they couldn't handle. Izzy felt a slight twinge of guilt that she had begged Rese to switch shifts with her on such a short notice, but it had been important. Teresa had not said much, it was the way she was. Discarding the thought, Isabelle went back to the far more interesting news she was holding.

"Tell us," Clary sighed. Izzy ignored it.

"The new teacher is here."

"Oh?" Teresa perked up. Isabelle watched her closely: of the two of them, Rese had always been the one to enjoyed Hodge's lessons more. Izzy preferred other courses of studies, in her opinion, history, politics, math and chemistry were unnecessary evil. "How is he? Did you see him?"

Izzy shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the cool wall, drawing out her revelation and enjoying it. "He's mysterious."

"Izzy," Clary said and laughed. "For you, every man older than you is mysterious."

"That's not true!" She protested and pouted but it was for fun more than for herself. Simon was only three months older than her. She did not like to admit it but since they had been going out she had realized many things she had not seen before, including the fact that she had never really been in love, despite her claiming it again and again. It was what scared her now: the depth of her feelings, the utter helplessness of the thought that she stood before him naked, without any pretense. Simon managed to see right through her, no matter what act she put up, and it terrified her. For the moment, she concentrated on her two sisters. "I tell you, you won't be able to read him. Not even you, Rese. He's from the UK."

The girls looked at each other again and laughed and after a few seconds she joined them. Every day but especially on moments like this it was that she was glad she had them. Growing up in a church in New York, a Shadowhunter Institute, she had often dreaded the long hours with only her brother as company. Since Jace and Rese came to stay with them they had been two girls, at least, and now Clary was a part of their Clave, too. No matter what people thought of her – and she knew they said she was willful, and cold, and arrogant – Isabelle Lightwood had a sharp wit and an equally sharp tongue, and she was a fighter just as good as her two sisters were.

"Ah, and there is something else," she said, delicately eyeing her finger nails. "He brought his foster son. Or student. Or whatever. Cassidy. Our age, I'd say. He is cute."

"Isabelle," Clary reproached her as soon as she had recovered from the news. Rese merely rolled her eyes: she was used to it. Izzy smirked. She was predictable, Teresa. Sometimes she wondered how it was that Rese, with her intelligence and strength that matched Jace's, never tried to best her. But that was just not how she was. Predictability came with familiarity: Isabelle was glad she had Rese. They were sisters, by everything else if not by blood. Even if it had not been that way always.

"Go on, check him out yourselves," she said and made a shooing motion.

Clary shrugged out of her ruined sneakers and rolled her shoulders.

"Actually, I wanted to…"

"See Jace first, I know. Incidentally, all of them are in the training hall." It was Izzy's turn to roll her eyes. "Boys. Showing off. Make sure not to be knocked down by flying excess testosterone." Pushing herself off the wall, she strode off into the other direction.

"Have a close look, Rese!" She sing-sanged over her shoulder, knowing full well Teresa was the last one to show interest in someone else – especially if the other was male. Sometimes Isabelle wondered whether Rese, like her, wasn't lonely despite her insistence on preferring to be by herself. But Isabelle did not talk about such things and Teresa didn't, either. It was what made them so comfortable around each other nowadays. Still…

Both Clary and Teresa sighed in her back as she retreated, but it was a loving sigh. Isabelle smiled.


	3. Hunters

**Chapter 2 – Hunters**

It has been almost exactly one year since Cassidy came to the New York Institute.

Three days before the day he walked through the iron gates for the first time he had turned sixteen. He woke, that morning, with the ghost of his mother's hand on his forehead and his father's voice in his mind. It did not change anything: his mother was dead and his father was a madman, criminal and traitor, and Daemon and he would be off for the States. A new start, his teacher had told him.

Cassidy did not want to start again. He just wanted to disappear.

…

He almost laughed when he realized what this was.

Teresa, in his back, growled in the depths of her throat. "_Trap._"

"_Sabriel. Liranael._" Her whispers, angry and self-deprecating, caused the angel blades to blaze into light. The part of the room he could see was flooded by it. The hotel was abandoned, layers of dust testament to the fact that nobody ever came here except for mice and rats. And cats, perhaps. Right now, he felt like a mouse. Why, in the name of the Angel, had they not seen this coming?

Cassidy whispered a name, as well. In his hand, the angel blade was light and warm. Runes burned on his skin. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Teresa move her head from the left to the right, alert, searching. There had to be another exit besides the tall doors that just had fallen closed behind them. Only something was telling him that exiting the building was near impossible and that, if they by chance made it outside again, something would be waiting for them. He felt it so strongly his skin crawled.

"Show yourself," he ordered the darkness. It was the only thing he could do, though his brain was running on triple-time to find a way out of the lobby.

On the other side of the room a dark figure appeared; a shadow from the shadows. Others followed. As the figure approached, Cass could finally see his face: it was the first time he saw it and was able to put a tag on it.

"You," Rese growled, sounding surprised. She knew him better, probably, had seen him more often than him. Walking in and out of the Institute; talking to Maryse and Robert; delivering orders from the Conclave. Cassidy had only seen him a few times. He cast his memory back: an informal dinner to which every Nephilim who was staying in NY at the time was invited. A long buffet, voices, laughter, a short encounter in the hallway. A face that hadn't stuck, too average, too normal, just another Shadowhunter among Shadowhunters. He was sure Teresa had better recollection, knowing her memory. The most recent one they shared, though, was the one of a hooded man in the church graveyard, opening a gate for a host of demons. Isabelle, bloody and unconscious, on the ground. Maryse screaming wordlessly while attacking night things, her face and gear blood-splattered. Jace, Clary, Alec, Rese and Cass battling against the never-ending number of demons streaming through the portal until backup arrived.

"You," Teresa said again and Cassidy could feel the cold fury she directed at the person responsible for their sister's injury. He grabbed her arm before she could rush at him. Her skin was burning through her long sleeves.

_Let me go. _

Cassidy could not say whether she spoke in his head or not but the words burned through him like iron spikes. He did not let go, no matter the pain.

"Rese," he told her harshly. "Calm down."

He could have added that they were on their own in a building they did not know; that their opponent had the advantage on them because they did not know his reasons and his plans, whether he had more allies than the dark shadows in the background or whether they were the only backup he had. The last time he commanded a host of demons. The last time, they had almost lost Izzy. Cassidy would have liked to add all of this – but he knew Teresa knew all of it, as well. They just had to get through this, somehow, had to go back and warn their Clave. There was a traitor among the Nephilim, and today he had shown his face.

The tall hunter stepped forward, into a ray of light. They could see his features: sunken, dead.

"What do you want?" Teresa demanded.

"I saw you," the man said slowly. "At the Institute. You're not the Morgenstern girl."

Cassidy felt Teresa's shoulders stiffen; her already tense muscles tighten even more.

"I wanted the Morgenstern girl," the man now said to someone behind him. "Not those two." A voice murmured behind him, one of the dark shadows stepping to the front, a dark shape taking on the form of a woman. The questioner turned towards her, his face impassive, but his eyes were burning. "That's not her." Another stream of words, this time, the voice sounded defiant. The man shrugged and turned away. "I warned you." What followed was a careless gesture on his part – he ripped apart something easily, something _vital_ – and the woman burst into flames with a horrible scream. Her dark clothes went up in flames slowly but her hair burned fast, her head, then, the fire spread to the heavy leather clothes. Without any emotion the man left his victim to burn, ignores flailing arms, horrid screams and the awful stench of burning flesh. Cass almost gagged.

"Now what do I do with you?" The man asked, almost as if to himself. "The Morgenstern girl could surely use her rune powers to grant my request. The two of you, though… You are O'Rourke's son, aren't you?"

When Cassidy refused to answer, he just nodded. "You look just like your father. Pity he did not get himself killed before they got him. The Silent City is not kind."

"It is where you will be going." Cassidy had to give Teresa that: her voice did not waver. They were still standing back to back and he could see the light of her angel blade, the way it illuminated one side of her face only. Dark eyes, dark hair – so unlike her twin brother.

"But," the man said slowly, ignoring him. "You are a Herondale." He frowned, made connections in his mind. "The angel boy is your brother."

Teresa did not deign to answer.

"What do you want from us?" Cassidy asked, again. Because when someone attacked you in your own home and then lured you into a trap there was something he wanted from you, even if it only was your death.

"There indeed is something I want," the man said and behind him, the last flickers of what once was a being died down and fell to the ground, grey ashes and black dust. "Something your Clave sister could have granted. Of course, you are worthless to me, O'Rourke. But the girl… She might be of use." He walked down a few stairs, moved towards them. Cassidy and Teresa tensed, lifted their blades.

He was inside their combat spaces within seconds, swatted away all three of their blades as if they were wooden training weapons. Cassidy was pretty sure his angel blade met flesh as he slashed out, his other hand continuing the broken motion with his kindjal. But the man spun away again before he could make out anything, suddenly holding angel blades of his own.

"You carry angel blood, don't you, girl? Just like your twin brother. So what is your gift?"

Rese's face was a mask of nothingness as she attacked. Cassidy, having fought with her and by her side for more than a year, followed her suit. They were a good team, born from necessity more than from training. Clary and Isabelle hunted together, and so did Jace and Alec. It made them the third team, the third set of Shadowhunters sent out by the New York Institute, and even though Teresa had been very reluctant at first they had learned to read each other, had learned to fight back to back and to rely on each other. While Rese attacked the man frontally, Cass went for his side. The man had no obvious weakness, he noticed soon enough, and angel steel met angel steel with a ring and a flash of bright light. Cassidy parried one of the slashing blades with his kindjal and felt the shock ring up his entire arm. The man parried both their blades using both his swords, then threw one at Teresa quick as lightning and switched into a one-armed combat stance. Teresa spun to the side, graceful and just in time, her back separating from Cassidy's as she tried to get behind their opponent. She failed. He was good. He was fast, seemed to be everywhere at once. He blocked and parried and attacked and even Rese, whom, along with Jace, Cassidy deemed to be one of the best fighters of their generation, could not find an opening in his defense. Here it was he suddenly realized that they were mere children compared to this man: This man, who had fought so much and so often that he could take it up with two young nephilim, armed, rested and ready, and not even break a sweat. Cassidy attacked, trying to draw the man's attention to him, and Teresa back-flipped over their opponent, ready to come at him from behind once again. And suddenly the man flickered out of their sight like a dying candle and came up _behind her_, his sword poised and ready, and Cassidy could only gasp her name in warning when one of the dark shadows they had not been able to look at closer attacked him. Three daggers came flying at him from the darkness surrounding them. A growl resounded when he batted them aside, ducked, rolled out of the way, leapt to his feet again and slashed at whatever was in his way. And then there was someone inside his range, suddenly and fast, attacking him fiercely with a steel pipe. He swung without elegance or grace, just a hit filled with brutal strength and efficiency. In the tiny part of Cass' brain that was not concentrating on his own and his partner's survival he analyzed the movements and filed them away.

"Stupid girl," the man said and he bludgeoned Teresa's head brutally with the hilt of his angel blade. "Just like your brother. Just like your whole, damned Clave."

Rese went down without a sound.

Red veils of fury danced in front of Cassidy's eyes. _Nobody touches my partner! _Rationality's the gift first lost in life-and-death situations. He knew that much, tried to keep it, but something in the sight of the girl on the floor of the dark hotel lobby made every rational thought disappear. The only thing he could think of was whether she was okay, and how he could kill the man who had hurt her.

"Cross, do your damn job!" He heard the man yell. Someone – his former adversary, the steel-pipe-wielding traitor – grabbed him in a head-lock, an arm pressed down on his windpipe, something pricked his neck. Ice flooded his body.

"Rese," he gasped, and then everything went black.

…

She remembers where she saw him first.

The memory of the man intertwines with a different one, breaks off and resurfaces and everything she sees is Jace's face, so white the blood on it was horribly red. That night she had waited on the stairs to the Institute, the feeling of dread in her heart so heavy she felt physically ill. She had no explanation for Izzy, who had followed her at first and then had gone back to bed. Maryse and Robert were out, Hodge holed up in the library; Rese stood on the stairs in the rain and waited. They came into view agonizingly slowly, Alec staggering forward, Jace leaning on him heavily. Both were bloody, beaten, but Jace, inexplicably, was grinning. Behind them, a few other figures followed, shadows turning into living, breathing, injured and dying shadowhunters.

"Hey, sis," he slurred and collapsed into her arms. Two events, unconnected. Just the same day and the same place.

The hospital wing was dark and silent. Jace's even breathing was the only thing she heard when she woke. First she thought it had been a movement Jace made that had woken her, then she saw the man: he stood over one of the other beds in the ward, unmoving. He had entered while she had slept, noiselessly, how long had he been there already? In the dim light of the stars he seemed like a ghost. On the bed before him someone laid, still and silent, Teresa had seen enough bodies to know the person was dead. When he felt her looking at him, he raised his head to meet her eyes. The man stared at her hollowly, his eyes as dead as the child before him, his haggard features almost skeletal in grief. He looked at her without seeing her, then let his eyes drift back to the body in front of him as if she was not there.

She must have fallen asleep again. The next day she was not sure whether it had been a dream or not.

…

"I heard," Theo told her when she woke up with a splitting headache, "Your brother once jumped straight out of one of these. Can you do it, too?"

_These: _Shimmering bars of pure energy stretching from top to floor of the room. The Nephilim in front of her was unshaven and looked even more haggard than the last time she saw him. Over the death bed of his only son she did feel pity for him – _Nobody should have to bury his own children_ – but now she felt a sentiment akin to loathing. _Get used to it. People die._ This man lost the only thing that was important to him and now he betrayed everything he was – and what for? The dead did not return.

_Jace did. _

The thought echoed in her mind. There were few things Teresa would say about herself that she loved with all her heart, and her brother was one of them. Finding him beaten half to death by Sebastian in the Valley in Alicante had been the worst moment of her life. When she woke up in the hospital and they told her he actually had died she felt like she had died, too, like a part of her had collapsed and would never get up again. It was not as if she was alone in the world. Still, there was nothing that could make her get over the loss of her twin. Did Theo, she wondered, feel like that concerning his son? If so, she understood his pain. What she could not accept were the measures he took to undo what could not be unmade by men.

"A Malachi Configuration," Cassidy rasped and she jumped, guiltily, because she had almost forgotten about him. Across what once probably was a ball room in one of the most exclusive hotels of New York and what now was a landscape of ruins, dust and shadows she could see the green shimmer of the cage he was caught in. Teresa stepped forward – clenched her fists – and felt the sizzling energy that surrounded her. Her cage, she noticed, was higher than Cassidy's.

"What exactly is it you are planning?" She asked, trying very hard not to look at Cassidy although everything inside her screamed to check whether he was hurt. She risked a short look. He was on his feet, like her, his hands opening and closing in helpless anger.

"You will help me," the man said instead of answering her question. Or perhaps it was the answer, to him. "Your brother died and was revived by the grace of the Angel. You will call Him, too, and demand He revive my son. I don't care how you do it."

Her mind was blank.

"That's idiotic," Cassidy said and she was so relieved she could kiss him. "Valentine used the Mortal Instruments to summon Raziel. If you had the Instruments…"

"Then I wouldn't need Clarissa – or you," Theo replied, speaking to her without ever once breaking eye contact. "I am aware she has certain abilities granted by the Angel's blood in her veins. The same is with Jonathan Herondale. You are his twin sister. You have the blood, too."

"It does not work like that," she spat at him. "It is not in the power of the living to call back the dead."

So what power did she have? Clary could use runes, could amplify old ones and create new ones. Jace was quick, intelligent, brilliant, and he carried the Heavenly Fire. She just was Teresa, little sister, twin, a nephilim, but just barely special.

"You don't deny you have special powers." Theo stepped closer and his eyes narrowed. His thin lips pressed into an even thinner line. "What it is the Angel granted to you?"

"Even if I could – I would not help you."

"Rese," Cassidy called out, tentative.

She did not look at him but her heart slammed against her ribs painfully. "Shut up."

Theo turned to look at Cassidy, then his eyes returned to her. He seemed thoughtful. "Perhaps I should leave you two alone for a while so you can talk this out. O'Rourke, it would be in your best interest to persuade your young partner to help me. There might be something I would be willing to grant you in return for your help. Otherwise you will find that the fate your dear father suffers is kind in the face of what I will subject you to – the two of you."

He waved, a sharp, commandeering gesture that told her he was in charge, uncontested. Shadows detached from the walls. Now she could see them: a wolf, two hunters, a few demons – they vanished through the wide doors at the end of the hall. He had assembled _an army_. The thought crossed her head as dread flowed back into her. Turning back, Theo regarded them without a smile. He seemed all the more like a madman because he did not behave like one. It was in the light that shone from his eyes – a light that seemed dead, somehow, without any happiness and humanity – that made Teresa shiver, and she detested herself for her display of fear.

"Don't think I won't get what I want, young Nephilim," he told her. "As you can see, I am not alone. How many of us have lost someone in their life? And they never had the chance to talk to their beloved again, not like you and your brother had. You will make it possible. Otherwise…" He glanced at her almost thoughtful. "Every person has weaknesses, Teresa Herondale. I will find yours and you will give me what I want. I do not care _how_ you do it. Just _do_ it."

The heavy door closed behind him, leaving them trapped.


	4. Acts of Necessity

**Chapter 3 - Acts of Necessity**

When Teresa was five years old, she broke one of the ceramic plates that hung on the wall in the Wayland Manor.

She had not meant to. The plates were age-old, a symbol of her family's loyalty and devotion to the Conclave. _(Not her family but it was still hard thinking of herself as a Herondale, not a Lightwood, not a Morgenstern, not a Wayland.)_ It had been the most beautiful, in her eyes, the one that depicted Jonathan Shadowhunter and his sister as they assembled the first Clave. The runes that surrounded the scene were ancient, as well, some of them not even her father had known. The plate broke clean in two halves. Teresa was so shocked she did not know what to do. Her father had laughed – a worthless relic, he had said, and how symbolic that his children would shatter what their ancestors – in blood and name – had worked so hard to build. And then he had hit her, and locked her in the cold, dark cellar, because she had been clumsy and careless, and he had not raised her to go around bumping into things. She spent two days and nights downstairs, without food or water, and when Jace finally found the keys and freed her (no doubt Valentine had wanted him to do so, after all a dead puppet was no fun) she had learned her lesson.

Unlike Jace, she would not unlearn it.

…

"They've been gone for two days now!"

Izzy was pacing in circles, her long, black hair trailing behind her. Clary followed her with her eyes, her small body tucked into the window seat in the library. Alec in his chair seemed relaxed but anyone who knew him could see the tension in his body. Jace, without looking at his parabatai, could feel the strain and the control he exerted over himself to stay calm. It helped Jace, albeit little, until it did not help anymore.

"That's it," he said, pushing back from the bookshelf he had leaned against. "I don't care what the Conclave says. I'm going to look for her."

"And how do you plan on finding them?" Maryse asked calmly. "Jonathan, calm down. All of you. The Conclave is informed. We've called in all our informants. It is just a matter of hours until we will hear from them."

"Two days!" Jace exploded. "They could be everywhere! They could be…" He choked, at a loss for words. He did not want to imagine it: his twin sister, somewhere, injured, bleeding, or… A warm hand touched his arm and he looked down. It took a few seconds until his eyes focused on Clary, whose green eyes looked at him from underneath her dark lashes.

"Please, Jace. We can't help Rese and Cass by charging off blindly. Just give Magnus and Simon some time and they'll find something. Then we will make our move."

He opened his mouth to say something, anything: his sister was out there, alone, she could be anywhere, anything could have happened. Worry for her pulsed through him so hotly he felt he was burning from within. He had no idea where the sudden fear came from: Rese was a Shadowhunter as good as any of them. She had proven her abilities often enough. Perhaps Cassidy and her had been caught up in a situation from which they couldn't detach themselves off fast enough, or they were following new lines of investigation. But whatever it was, they would have checked in by now. Something was fundamentally wrong, Jace knew, but he also knew there was no good in charging off after them without having at least a clue about their whereabouts. This was New York, the city in which people could disappear forever if they wanted to.

"Fine." Jace crumpled into the chair next to Alec, suddenly drained of all energy. "But if…" He did not finish. Alec glanced at his parabatai and stood. "Come on, Izzy, I need you for something."

"I'll try to call in a favor from Graymark and his tribe," Maryse said. "And I'll try to contact Daemon again. Why does he always disappear like that?" With a sigh she left, looking tired and worried, her forehead creased in a worried frown. Alec and Izzy followed their mother from the room, Izzy casting back a worried glance.

"We're all worried, Jace," Clary said gently when the heavy doors had closed and the silence became unbearable. Without any more strength left to bark at her, Jace let his head drop into his hands.

"I know. Maryse, Robert, Max, Alec and Izzy… You. You're all right. But… _Rese._"

"She's your twin. We understand."

"I don't think you can." He said it without emphasis, without anger. "We've only had each other for so long. When Maryse and Robert took us in, it changed. And still…" He stared off into the fire light. "I always thought I'd know if something had happened to her, you know? Twin stuff, all those clichés. Rese always seemed to know when something was wrong with me." Jace shook his head. "But I don't feel _anything_. Isn't that horrible? My twin sister is missing and I don't feel any different. I probably was asleep or whatever when it happened and I did not _notice anything_. At all. She could be dead by now."

"I don't think you do not feel anything," Clary disagreed. "You feel her absence. You fear for her safety. Isn't that painful enough?"

"You weren't there." His hand came up and grasped for hers blindly, as if to compensate for the fact that it wasn't her face he was searching for in his memories. He looked at their intertwined fingers as if he had never seen something like them before. "Once, when I was out patrolling with Alec – we were about fourteen or so – it went bad. I was reckless, I got injured. The poison had me hallucinating, the wound wouldn't close. When we came back to the Institute –" he swallowed hard – "Rese was waiting. She knew exactly something had happened, she was worried sick. But I… I don't –"

"You know something is wrong," Clary told him. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so upset. Intuition is no science, Jace."

"Angel," he spat. "I certainly wish it was, sometimes. Science I can understand. Whereas feelings – not so much. You know me." He laughed mirthless and then looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Clary, where are they?"

"I don't know," she answered sadly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "We have to wait and see."

The door slammed open and Isabelle shot through the opening, all dressed in black gear. She was wrapping her golden whip around her left arm, her left hand holding her stele.

"No news yet. But Mom got the Conclave to send out search squads."

Jace and Clary shared one glance and raced for the door.

…

"Are you sure about this, Maryse?"

Robert had carefully examined his broadsword and slid it back into its heavy sheath. His wife did not stop in her application of runes onto her right arm.

"Some help here?"

He stepped over, took the stele from her and continued on. Her shoulders were covered in scars, from runes and otherwise, and he knew most of them. "_Maryse_."

"I don't care," she told him. "The Conclave can sit and talk until hell freezes over. I won't stay put while one of my children is out there, missing." She flinched. "Robert, what are you doing?"

"Sorry," he murmured and took some pressure off the stele. "They already do not love us, you know that."

"They never did," she told him, matter-of-factly, and he was awed by her determination. When he had married her – they had been so young – it had been one of the traits he had loved her most for. They had been friends before Valentine. He hoped it could stay that way. "And you never cared."

"I know," he answered and finished the last seal. Handing her back the stele, he turned away from her to give her access to his back. "But sometimes it would be better if you'd just keep your head down."

"First Max," she told him, her eyes blazing. "Then Rese, Jace and Clary, then Izzy. Now Teresa again. I am not going to sit by idly and watch while someone tries to kill off my children one after another."

"Valentine's…"

"Dead, I know. I don't care who it is. Nobody touches my family." She tucked her stele into her pocket and threw her heavy braid over her shoulder. Her eyes were liquid fire. "You coming?"

"Of course." A grim smile on his lips, he followed his wife into the hall where the rest of his family was waiting.

…

"Not bad," Teresa told Cassidy and sank into a crouch on the ground. "But not good enough. We'll need more than that to get out of here."

"It was a start." His calmness calmed her, like usual. Sometimes she thought without him she would have gone crazy long ago. She could feel his gaze on her from the other side of the room: his piercing eyes, his thoughts running miles before hers. "So giving him what he wants is out of question."

They'd been debating for what seemed like hours. They had tried to rest. Neither one of them had truly slept.

"Of course." She was livid every time he even considered it. "He's mad, obviously."

Cassidy's green eyes were thoughtful and tired. "He lost his only son."

"So what?"

"You would have done anything to bring Jace back."

Anger pulsed through her, hot and acidic. "What are you implying?"

"Do you have it?" He asked her instead. "Could you do what he wants you to do?"

"Are you insane? I don't have any special powers." The lie burned in her mouth like acid. "You know what? Instead of concocting idiotic conspiracy theories could we focus on getting out of here? Maryse and the others will be worried sick by now."

Dusty light was filtering through the clouded windows, midday cool and cloudy. Panic had been growing at the pit of her stomach, slowly working its way up her throat as the sun wandered through the sky. Jace would be worried. All of them would. After what had happened to Izzy, Maryse was fiercely protective of each of them, more so than ever.

"Right." Cass accepted her obvious change of topics. "So the only question remains: how do we get out of here?"

As it seemed, the question had no answer. Not one they knew, anyway.

When evening fell, Theo returned.

…

"I'm leaving."

"Daemon." Anathea's face was calm, motionless, her silver hair shone in the light of the moon. "You cannot go now."

Her hand was still clamped around his right wrist. His thoughts raced – he could spin free, break her hand in fifteen different ways, knock her unconscious in eleven others. He could use a spell, use an illusion, apply shadows, he could summon his sword or call up spirits. He could use the angel blade he held in his other hand or could just freeze her by looking at her, render her unable to move and force her to slit her own throat. And he didn't even have to move a finger in order to do so. It was so easy to kill humans, and not so easy to kill Nephilim but he was far more than that so to him it still was no challenge. To him, even Nephilim were weak and breakable. Anathea was a brilliant Shadowhunter and a skilled fighter. But she, too, stood no chance against one of the Nereshai. And then…

Daemon took a deep breath. "I have to get back to New York."

"You cannot." She repeated her words without force but with finality. "We need you here, right now. You are the only one who knows something about the seal on the Ainar Plane."

He wanted to leave. He wanted to tell her to go and ask Roi and Sue instead of him, he wanted to return to New York immediately. He would turn the city upside down, would shake it until the bastards who had caused Cassidy harm would emerge, and then he would…

Daemon shook off all the unnecessary thoughts and focused on the woman before him. She might not know what he was able to do to her. Still, she held on to his wrist as if he was a normal Nephilim, not someone who could erase her existence by simply blinking once. That, alone, he thought, demanded his respect.

"Fine."

Anathea let go of him. Her light grey eyes were sad. What had she already lost? It was a futile thought. Most of them had lost something, the one way or the other. "Sometimes," she said, "We have to do things we do not want to do, but we know we don't have another choice."

_Yes, _he thought. _Acts of necessity. _

…

It was a clever idea.

They simply pushed iron poles into her cage, through the bars of pure energy. At first, Teresa dodged the metal which was easy because they, in order not to come into contact with the Malachi Configuration themselves, had to maneuver carefully and slowly with their huge, bulky gloves while they heaved the staves into anchors on the walls. When she realized what they were doing it almost was too late. Cassidy realized the same second she grabbed a bar and slammed it to the side and with a flash of energy and a blinding pain she was thrown backwards. Luckily, she slammed into one of the bars they had already installed and they held, so she did not come into contact with the walls of her cage a second time. The two men, though, who had been holding the pole were on the ground, too, writhing in agony. Either they had not managed to get away from the metal she had slammed into their unprotected arms or the Malachi Configuration had simply hit them harder than they had thought it would. From the back of the room, Theo snarled sharply.

"Finish!"

Two other men and a woman – one of them was a wolf, she could see his snarling face and smell his scent of night – jumped forward and brought the last staves into place. Teresa tried to stand but her legs gave way under her own weight and she just managed to slide to the ground again without touching one of the other poles. Clenching her teeth she fought against the raging pain that still ran through her entire nerve system – it was like receiving a Taser shock, only much, much worse.

"Teresa!"

From his side of the room, Cassidy called her name. It held an odd mixture of worry and anger and she held on to it, used his familiar voice to anchor herself to reality.

"I'm fine," she ground out between her teeth. The last pole clicked into place and she was caught between the iron bars. Quickly, a vampire moved through the room and released the holds of the staves in the wall. If Rese moved just one, it would connect to the Malachi Configuration and she would be writhing in agony again. So best not move. Nevertheless, she scrambled to her feet, clenching her teeth and forcing her legs to hold her weight. She could barely stand upright in her new, smaller cage.

"Are you," Theo asked and stepped closer to her. In his dead eyes she read nothing, neither pity nor anger. "Well, you might remain well if you decide to help us."

"You want me to call back the dead." Teresa put all her anger, all her hate, into the words. They did not even seem to reach Theo. "That's impossible."

He did not bat an eye. "Make it possible."

"You are insane."

He held out a hand and she could see what it had been he had been gripping so tightly: a bow, wooden and well-worn, but the string and the wood shone like freshly polished. Theo lifted it and used it to shift one of the iron bars, in the same, careless gesture he had set the woman aflame the last night. It made contact with the Malachi Configuration, and then with Teresa's stomach.

She did not scream. She bit her lips until she tasted blood and crumpled to the ground again, her arms intuitively wrapping around her middle. The pain was sharp and excruciating: pure energy running through her veins, originating from her stomach. Blue veils danced in front of her eyes as her body convulsed, again, again, agony eating into her like acid, a steady current of pain that did not abate. She wanted to scream except that there was no voice she could use. She had no legs to stand, no hands to stop the agony. _Jace_, she thought, desperately, and then _Cass. _Because Jace wasn't there – but Cassidy was. Only Cassidy was imprisoned, too, he couldn't help her. She was all by herself. _Jace!_ Why wasn't her twin there?

The constant stream of pain stopped, bled out to an echo of agony that flowed through her.

Panting, Rese laid on the ground, curled up into a fetal position. Her entire body hurt, ached like she had been on fire. Hodge once had told her people with burns so severe they could not be saved still were able to walk around for hours before they died. It must feel like that, she thought, because she had no strength to move and yet knew she would not die, not by long.

"I wondered," Theo said. His voice filtered into her mind slowly, she wasn't sure whether he had been talking before or not. "You know the tales about Nephilim, about how they would rather die themselves than to see anyone else suffer. So at first – and my friends agreed with me – we planned on doing this to you, O'Rourke, and to let your little girlfriend watch."

Teresa's arms trembled as she lifted a hand – slowly, agonizingly slowly – to push away strands of hair that had fallen into her face. Her hand came away damp and sticky: her nose was bleeding. First she was unable to see anything: flashes danced before her eyes. Her vision cleared only slowly. Her gaze wandered across the room: Theo was not looking at her but at Cassidy, and her partner was glaring right back at the traitor, his fists clenched in helpless rage. Stupidly, the word _girlfriend_ stuck in her head, running over and over like a broken record.

"We figured she would rather help us than watch you being tortured. But then, she was trained by Valentine Morgenstern. So perhaps she would not value your life above hers."

Cassidy laughed.

"You think I'm wrong?" Theo gazed at him.

"I know you're right," he replied coolly. "Rese would not help you, no matter what you did to me. But not because she is inhuman." His eyes wandered over to her cage and Teresa was surprised by the passion she saw in them. "No, she wouldn't help you raise the dead because she knows it is the right thing to do, refusing your wish. You are mad, wanting to call back the dead. Do whatever you want to me: you won't get her help."

Gratified, Teresa closed her eyes for a split second and tried to gather some strength.

"But why are you doing this, then?" Cassidy went on. He was pointing at her now. "You think she will give you what you want if you torture her long enough? I'm sorry to disappoint you: she won't. I don't know any Shadowhunter who is as strong as she is."

His faith in her was amazing.

"So why, then, are you torturing her?"

"Actually, that's pretty easy," Theo said. "You know, we still don't know exactly what kind of her powers are, correct?"

He waited, but nobody answered. Rese forced her legs to carry her and stood, still surrounded by the metal bars in her cage.

"But then, boy," Theo said and stared at Cassidy straight, "I think you know far more than you've let on. And it would seem you care enough for her to give me what I want, if I force you a bit. Why don't _you_ tell us what you know about our little Angel descendant here?"

The silence that followed was ear-shattering.

"You're wrong," Cassidy's voice did not shake. "I don't know anything. I don't even care about her."

"Wouldn't the world be better," Theo said, almost absently, "If we could just believe in our own lies."

Teresa barely had time to take a breath before the next pole moved.

…

It is a curse: to be able to observe detached, coldly, to see the world through a filter of cool blue ice. To Cassidy, the world is just a string of facts, one after another. There are few things he does not see and he draws connections quickly.

Observation Number One: In the New York Institute, Maryse Lightwood is the boss, and her word is law. Robert might be her husband by law but it is the only thing that connects them nowadays, the law and their children. Cassidy has no experience with broken relationships but he knows one when he sees it.

Observation Number Two: Alec has serious issues regarding his boyfriend. Of course it isn't easy dating a Warlord. Bane is decades – centuries – older than Alec but then again, Cassidy can see there is more to his side of their relationship than others see. Obviously, Alec does not see it, otherwise he would stop doubting and feeling inferior. On the long run his doubts might just get them both killed. Jace, as Alec's parabatai, cannot help about those issues – but they work together flawlessly otherwise. Not even Jaq and Jay had been able to do what those two could do when together.

Observation Number Three: Jonathan – Jace – and Clary share a relationship so intense it lights up a room. Why, Cassidy wonders, is it that most of his Clave siblings commit once and forever? It is not as intense with Isabelle and Simon but still. It's a Shadowhunter thing, probably, when he looks at his parents and at Nadia and Terrance, or at Jocelyn Fairchild and Lucian Greymark. And there's Jace's obvious fighting gift. Cass is a seasoned hunter but some of the things Jace does he's never seen before – and the same with Clary's gift with runes. Children of the Angel, Daemon called them once, Cassidy is inclined to take him by his word because his teacher rarely speaks in metaphors and otherwise, all of them would be.

Observation Number Four: Teresa. Full stop. Because she is an enigma in itself: she is as good a Nephilim as her brother, as dedicated, as brilliant, but she lacks his arrogance and his openness. Instead, she is quiet and withdrawn, weeks passed until Cass was allowed to train with her for the first time. It is not that she tries to push away people but rather that she seems content the way she is. And then there is a second knot he is still trying to untangle, a year after he got to know her: perhaps it is the cloak of silence around her, perhaps something she hides even from herself. He knows she and Jace had a cold and cruel upbringing, he knows about Valentine Morgenstern and Stephen and Celine Herondale. So obviously, he deduces, nobody ever made it through Teresa's shell the way Clary broke through Jace's, and he surely does not feel the urge to be the one. And whatever it is, her gift is different from her brother's and Clary's. It makes her different, somehow, detaches her from the people around her and from her Clave.

Because Cassidy prides himself in watching, observing and learning, he is pretty sure he knows what makes Teresa different, what sets her apart from her other Clave siblings. It does not seem such a big deal yet he is not sure whether the others know. Does Jace know?

Cassidy is pretty sure Teresa can, next to the fighting skills she shares with her brother, sense other people's emotions. Sometimes he wonders what she gets from him.


	5. Echoes

**Chapter 4 – Echoes**

"I wonder," Theo said, almost to himself, "Whether Heavens hear their children cry?"

As it was, Theresa thought, it was a rather pointless question. Assuming the Nephilim really were the descendants of angels, did Heaven listen to their pleas? And if it did, who listened, and what was done? And then a second thought occurred to her: ifNephilim were children of the Angel, and she, Jace and Clary had a bit more angel blood than normal Nephilim had, did Theo mean her? And was he expecting Raziel to interfere because he was hurting her? It was a hilarious idea. Rese threw her head back and laughed and it tasted like blood and ashes. Deep within her, Theo's desperation burned worse than anything else she ever had experienced. Valentine had been cold and calculating. This was something entirely different.

It had always been like that.

Happiness was warm and soft, anger glowed red and blinding. Fear was a feeling as if one's nails were been torn out, one after another. Like demon poison, burning its way through her. And there was no way to stop it. Jace had told her loving Clary while believing she was their half-sister had burned like that, like he was bleeding out on the inside slowly but inevitably. She had thought it an accurate description. Hodge had tried to help her develop a mental shield but for some reason it never had been enough to completely isolate herself from her surroundings. It was all there, burning brightly in her mind: Robert's guilt, Maryse's desperation and strength, Hodge's self-pity. Alec was pure, tinged by self-hatred and doubt, Izzy wore an armor as thick as the Sanctuary's portal, Clary was a bright, colorful breeze, like fresh wind and eagerness. Max, too, so young and sweet. Jace, her beloved twin, was so much like her she found it hard to separate them sometimes: strong and bent and broken, innocent and used and disillusioned. And so devoted, so incredibly familiar. Her second half, fitting into her empty heart perfectly.

Of all of them it was Jace she had no trouble being close to. He could even touch her without her shrinking back. But he had Clary now, he had a life and it was not her place to hinder him from moving forward. Sometimes she wondered whether it hurt, the fact that she was pretty much by herself now. Except that she wasn't, she never was alone. Someone's emotions would constantly batter against her shields, feelings would wear her down day and night. Sometimes she could not even say whose emotions she was feeling and what they meant, much less identify her own sentiments. And then Cassidy had come into their lives – straight into her life – and they had become partners. Their partnership had been born from necessity and because everyone else expected them to work together. His emotions seemed muted, as if they were covered by a thin sheet of clear crystal. It almost was a respite, being with him, because he could control his feelings in a way only few other people were capable of. She had never asked why he did so, and where he had learned to control his emotions that rigidly. Or why, sometimes, there was a shadow on his mind, a darkness that threatened to draw her in and swallow her. It was so bad she almost ran from him on some days, but she did not ask what it meant and why it was there. Teresa did not want people to ask her, so she never asked questions, either. But she had started to relax in his presence. The darkness was perpetual, disappeared for days and returned full force on others. But overall it was relieving, having Cassidy's clear-cut, analytical mind close to her.

She liked it.

With a start she realized, caught in the Malachi Configuration and shaking uncontrollably from the amount of energy Theo had pumped through her body, that she had let down her guard towards Cassidy. As everything, it would turn out to be a mistake, every single one of her decisions usually tended to come back to haunt her. She had started to enjoy his company, had laughed at his jokes, had learned from him and taught him in return, and now she saw the mistake it had been.

Teresa was not afraid to die. So why should Cassidy's fear that ran through her body be even worse than her own?

"Maybe," Theo said, "The next time, I'll use some Veres, too."

…

The streets were dark and oddly familiar.

Isabelle wrapped her golden-coiled electrum whip around her left arm for the third time and told herself to stop fidgeting for the sixth. Next to her, Clary was moving with all the grace of a trained Shadowhunter. Nothing was left of her stumbling mundane self. Alec and Jace, she knew, were mirroring their process on the other side of the city and her parents were on their way, too. They had all been patrolling for three hours now and still there was no sign of Rese and Cass. The city seemed asleep, or, at least, silent. Usually, it would have set her on edge, today she was glad for it. The last thing they needed was a tumultuous outbreak of angry werewolves and vampires.

"It's been quiet all night," Clary's voice suddenly resounded, a soft whisper from Izzy's side. "Do you think it's strange?"

Isabelle tended to agree. Since the Accords had been signed again and the new treaty between Shadowhunters and Night Things had come to life, attacks had become fewer. Then, during the last months, even demon activity had somewhat ceased. It was as if every Downworlder out for trouble was waiting, concealing itself in the shadows of the night only to then jump up and attack in combined forces.

"You think it has something to do with Rese's and Cass' disappearance?"

She only swallowed. Clary did not ask further.

Isabelle never was sure whether she had liked her half-sister from the moment they arrived. Izzy was six years old, and already she had watched her mother cry in the darkness of the library, already she could feel her family falling apart. She watched them when they thought she wasn't near: Mom and Dad did not shout at each other, never, but their words were cool and hurtful, made Izzy shiver and want to cry. It scared her when she watched them like that. Once she crept into Alec's bedroom and asked him whether she could stay with him, he allowed it - but only for one night. From there on she knew that she was on her own.

Teresa and Jace. Twins, so similar and so unlike. Where Jace was sweet and lovable on some days and cool and detached on others, Teresa always remained cold and detached. Jace was withdrawn at first, both of them were. But bit by bit Alec managed to get him talking, the day he first smiled felt like Birthday, Christmas and Fourth of July all at once to Isabelle. She watched him carefully: he was not hers to heal, she knew, somewhere along the road Alec and she had split the duty of integrating the Morgenstern kids into their family and Rese fell to her. But Teresa was not like Jace. She trained with Izzy, but she did not smile. She did not follow her around like Jace followed Alec on the first weeks, she rather sat in the library and stared out of the window without saying a word. _Patience, love, _Mom told her, but patience never was Isabelle's strength. She watched Jace and Alec: they worked together, trained together, sometimes she even saw Jace laugh freely, and she could not help but envy her brother. The only person Teresa opened up to was her brother and as Jace found other people she withdrew even more. And that was it.

Watching her hurt, but it made Izzy angry, too.

So Teresa refused to become a part of their family. What did she care? They were not alike. Isabelle did not like to sit somewhere and watch the street. Or read, even more. Izzy liked to go out and watch real people, talk to real people, she liked noise and colors and liveliness. Teresa preferred silence and loneliness, for whatever reason. They just didn't mix. How could you care for a person that never told you how he felt, never showed what he thought? Never smiled, never cried? Caring for Rese was like decoding hieroglyphs and Izzy hated History. Among other things. Maybe she simply wasn't patient enough. But Teresa never complained. She could have made an effort, too, instead of just watching. But she buried herself in her room, read and watched and was silent, and after some time Isabelle did not make the effort to get her to come out anymore.

So here it was: all the pent-up anger and aggravation she has felt since Teresa and Jace walked into the Institute, all the things she never said. They were overflowing from her now and she was making a huge effort to keep them in check: Teresa, who never cared for the friendship Izzy offered, Teresa, who never tried to become more than siblings by necessity, Teresa, who hid behind her hair and her books and her mask and refused to become one of them. Teresa, whom Izzy didn't hate but didn't particularly love, either, how could it be that she and Jace were twins? They were so terribly different. Izzy had wished for more than a sister, she had gotten Teresa instead and she had never forgiven herself for being unable to love her.

She sighed. The images came faster now, in the same beat as her heart.

Teresa, whom she had known since both of them were six years old. Teresa, who never was afraid. Who taught her how to throw daggers, who helped her kill her first demon and brought her home that night. Izzy remembered the walk, their first official mission. She'd been so cold afterwards, she had shivered all the way back to the Institute. Teresa had had to hold her hand, and she'd been terribly ashamed. Of course, her sister's face had not displayed any emotion. Her hand had been cold.

Izzy paused.

Now that she thought of it, hadn't Rese's hand trembled too, that evening? The memory was vaguely hazy but suddenly she was sure of it. Rese had held her hand, and they had been shivering, both of them. Izzy had always thought Rese had stayed with her because she hadn't been able to leave after Isabelle refused to let go of her hand, but perhaps Rese had been afraid, too. And there had been so many other times when there had been emotion in the girl's eyes. That one night, for example, on which she had refused to come inside, had simply waited on the stairs of the Institute refusing to come in and when Alec and Jace had come back they had been pretty beat up and had been followed by a team of Shadowhunters that had been on a raid and lost one member of their Clave. Oh, and the one time Isabelle was attacked by the Forsaken when they had wanted to go to Alicante, hadn't it been Rese's voice that had called out to her, the last thing she had heard when she had lost consciousness? And that day that Valentine had been buried, had she not seen Rese in the corridor, on the window seat, her fists clenched so hard her knuckles had turned white?

They all came streaming from her like water that broke through a dam: images, so vivid and colorful she had to stop and steady herself on the next wall. Teresa, Isabelle, they were sisters no matter how hard both of them tried to deny it, how could it have happened that Izzy had thought she hated her? The most precious gift ever Rese had given to her: she had forced Isabelle to confront Simon. She had spoken coldly and sarcastic, but the effect had been that Isabelle had angrily stormed off to see the Daylighter. And in the end she hadn't been able to run from him far enough to not listen to what he had to say.

And Rese had been missing for two days now. Maybe she would never have the chance to see her again, to tell her she never had hated her… Isabelle swallowed, painfully, and ignored Clary's worried gaze.

They had to find her. They just had to.

…

_Think, Cassidy,_ he battered himself. _Think. _

On the other side of the room Teresa was lying on the ground, so terribly, terribly still. Only seconds ago she had been writhing on the ground in agony but she had made no sound. First he had marveled at her self-control. She was amazing, always had been, he knew nobody stronger than her. But with the realization from what – from whom – she had gained the strength to hold out like this his blood had run cold. _Valentine. _And he knew from his own experience that she would not withstand this torture forever. Nobody ever did. Everyone broke, he just had to remember his mother. And really, Rese had whimpered, and then she had screamed, a sound so horrible he had wanted to rip his ears out in order not to hear it anymore. Hours and hours, she had screamed and then stopped again until the pain grew too much for her and she lost consciousness. In the end her voice had been hoarse and raw, unrecognizable, and then she had fallen and had not gotten up. Terror cursed through Cassidy's veins, icy and final, what if, what if, was there nothing he could do? It was the worst punishment he could think of: just watching her being tortured again and again while he was unable to help her.

_Think, goddammit! _

Taking a deep, shaking breath, he tried to calm his racing mind. He was kneeling in the middle of his cage, unable to touch the bars in fear of their energy that would discharge at any contact with human flesh. _Think. T_he voice in his head sounded oddly like Daemon. If Cassidy had a father it was him, this dark, unreadable man that had saved him from the orphanage and brought him to the place he had learned to call home, who had introduced him to his first Clave. And he had taken him away when it had become too much, when everything had threatened to overwhelm him Daemon had torn him from the only place he'd ever known and brought him to the States. Everything Cassidy knew and was he had learned from two men and one woman, and one of the men – and the better one of them by far – was Daemon. Right now he would tell him to remain calm and to use his brain, did he not know what a powerful weapon it could be? So Cassidy closed his eyes and tried to forget that it was his partner on the other side of the room who was so terribly still she could have been dead. What did he know about a Malachi configuration? He recalled the runes for its evocation, the four Angel Blades at each side of the cage. _Restrain, hold, combine, meld. _Twelve runes, beautifully drawn, each one of them a mystery in its own right. Clarissa, perhaps, would have been able to create a rune to break the circle. But Clary wasn't here at the moment, and he did not have a power like hers. _Okay, Cass, prioritize. _What was it that needed to be done right now? He had to get Teresa out of the cage before she died from shock, before she suffered a heart attack. There had to be a solution, somehow, she would rather die than help Theo. And if anyone could get through with that, it was her. _God, _he little bit but prayed, _just let her find strength for a short while_, there had to be a solution, there had to be a way. _ Meld, separate, temporary, pain…_There was a solution to this problem as there was a solution to any problem that existed on this planet.

He just had to find it.

His mind came up with nothing. What was it of use that his father had been one of the most brilliant men of his time and he had inherited his intelligence when he wasn't even able to save Rese now? Close to despair, Cassidy clenched his fists and felt his nails bury into his palms. There was no way he could help her, he could not even soothe her from across the room. They didn't share the bond Alec and Jace and Clary and Isabelle shared, there was no way for him to…

His eyes flew open.

_Combine. Meld. Separate. Temporary. Pain. Hold. Restrain._

Twelve runes, and only four of them differed from the incantation he saw clear before his eyes… But he had no stele, they had taken it before they had locked him into the Configuration… There was no way, how should he draw runes without it… The voice of his father resounded in his head, mocking and proud. _If I can't walk anymore I will crawl on my hands and feet, if there is no air I will breathe nothingness. _Cassian had never, _ever_, accepted defeat. Cassidy had long ago come to terms with the thought that he resembled his father, instead of raging against it he had used it to gain strength. Mistakes, after all, were only good if you learned from them. It was, he guessed, the difference between him and the Herondale twins. Cassidy knew that there was more to it but right now, he refused to think of it further. There had been admirable traits in his father's character and he could use them. Cassian, criminal that he was, would never give when facing a comparatively small obstacle like a missing stele… A stele was a focus, it focused power and the Nephilim's will. Well, he had the will, it was burning so coldly it was painful, he only needed a focus for the energy. Focus. Focus, what was there that could be focused? Lenses focused light. Why not focus power, too? Cassidy grabbed for his glasses and pulled them off and the world turned into a grey-and-black blur, dammit, he was blind without them, how would he find the runes? His fingers moved instinctively and he jerked them back. He would have to remember their location and their character first, otherwise he would touch the Malachi Configuration… He thrust his glasses back onto his nose and crept forward. Only two guards were in the room currently, not counting Theo, but all of them were occupied.

"She'll come round," Theo said harshly and Cassidy realized only seconds had passed since Rese had lost her consciousness. "She's a Herondale, and Morgenstern trained her. She won't give so easily." The guards seemed hesitant. They were Nephilim, too, and for the first time he wondered whether they accepted Theo's actions. The same second the thought appeared he pushed it aside again. It was not important right now. Where was – ah, there.

Painstakingly slowly, he moved along the ring of the Malachi Configuration, memorizing the twelve runes as fast and accurately as possible. _There. _Four of them were different from the invocation he had in mind, ironically, they were set at the opposite corners of the cage. It would help him find them but he had to cross the expanse of the cage first to reach them, which would take time. He returned to the middle and closed his eyes to think. The ritual usually required a spoken part from all the participants, here he would have to improvise since Rese wouldn't be able to say anything. And the power focus, again, he had a faint idea how the stele usually worked it but he had never tried it without one… A stele would have to use the power generated by the Nephilim's mind, it probably focused it and let it flow into the runes. So if he just thought of the runes hard enough and used his glasses as a focus… No matter what, it just _had_ to work. There was nothing left he could try otherwise. Thrusting the world into grey and black shadows again, Cassidy pulled off his glasses.

_Restrain_ came first. Slowly, slowly as to not destroy anything and/or turn Theo's attention to him, he added a few lines. Clarissa had done this, he remembered Isabelle telling him. It was a brilliant idea and still at first he was afraid it would not work. Clary, after all, had a certain gift when it came to runes. And wasn't the whole point of a Malachi Configuration to keep him safe and powerless inside of it? But then, he wasn't destroying it. He was merely altering the spell, giving it a sense much, much older than the actual configuration itself. The purpose of the new runes was one entirely different. And it just _had_ to work… It had to… He had two configurations, just like the two circles required for the ceremony. He would only be able to alter his own but it would have to work. And there was the spoken incantation, with its ancient meaning and power… But wasn't the whole meaning of his actions that he was trying to save Teresa? It just _had_ to be enough. With a soft hiss and a glow, the rune changed and Cassidy barely suppressed a relived sight. The glasses in his hand trembled slightly with the power focused into it. Turning forty-five degrees, he took two steps and a last careful half-step and crouched again, praying he had found the right rune. He didn't dare put on his glasses again in case he would blind himself with the energy still focused in it.

_Pain _was the next. Strange how runes that held such opposite meanings were so similar, he reflected as he carefully changed the meaning of this rune, as well. His hand trembled. Two more to go. The glasses in his hands glowed, starting to heat up. It was difficult to control the amount of power he focused into his makeshift stele. He had no idea how long he would be able to hold this up.

Changing _Temporary_ was easy. Again, just a simple alteration, a bow here, there a slash, the rune glowed and heated up his glasses even more when it changed into its opposite. Quickly, Cassidy thought of what he was planning to do. He wasn't even sure if it would save them, if it did, they still had to get out of here somehow. And if they miraculously made it, they still would have to face the Conclave, not to mention that he would have to tell Teresa what he had done. Swallowing, he pushed away the thought. He didn't care what she did to him as long as they got out of here safely.

Two steps. A small one. Crouching down, he felt his hands burn, the pain was starting to become unbearable. He held on, feeling the metal sides of his rimless spectacles burning into his palm. _Unify. Unify. _This one was hardest, it seemed to slip from his grasp when he thought of it, as if it did not want to be drawn. On the other side of the room, he could hear a dimmed moan, in the tiny part of his brain that was not occupied with his work he was glad Teresa was gaining her consciousness, but for how long. Theo's voice. "There she is again. Ready to give up, girl?" _Unify. Unify, dammit. _He abandoned the first failed attempt, the rune glowed hotly and he jerked away. The glasses were searing hot now, he had to put them to the ground for a second. Immediately, a thin whisp of smoke rose and he prayed nobody would hear, see or smell the smoke and the burnt scent that was starting to make him gag. Burned flesh, he supposed. _Unify. _Closing his eyes, he took up the glasses one last time and concentrated. With an effort so huge it left him panting and weak, he finished the runes, together with the incantation he had been running over in his mind voicelessly.

_Now._

Suddenly, his Malachi Configuration glowed brightly, the green energy bars flaring up until he couldn't see anything anymore. His glasses burst in his hands, the safe-break glass cutting his already burned flesh. Now he really was blind he thought and then, panicking: the invocation. The second the Hunters and Theo turned to him, the second the green flames changed into a burning red and silver that made his eyes hurt, the second the heat dimmed into a low, pleasant warmth, he held up his bloody hand, thrust it directly into the fire, and whispered the last five words. That second, the green flames erupted around Rese's cage, as well, turned red, then golden, he could even see the light behind his closed eyelids.

_Teresa, _he thought, desperately. _Now. Do it now. _Did she know what he wanted from her? Did she suspect anything? He wasn't sure. He couldn't even see her clearly, she was just a blurred shape, it could have been anyone. With all his power he stretched out his mind, edged towards her mentally the same way he would have done had they been able to reach each other. He had no idea whether it would work but it _just had to_. Teresa. _Teresa_.

And she had to have moved, somehow, perhaps one of her broken, battered limbs had already been so close to the barrier that it was enough. Maybe she could still, hurt and tortured as she was, pick up on his feelings, his intentions, even. He never heard her voice, but he felt the change. Suddenly something slipped into place, irrevocably, unchangeable, a piece of him opening up and folding itself around something else. And with a clarity so startling he never once doubted it for a second he knew he would never be able to leave now.

Wouldn't want to anymore.

* * *

_Welcome back._


	6. Kinds of Chains

**Chapter 5 – Kinds of Chains**

He did not care.

Alexander did not really care about what weird powers his parabatai had, be they inherent or achieved through the fights they had fought during their life time. He just knew that when Jace had a feeling about something it usually brought them to the center of whatever problem was currently arising, and mostly it lead them right into even more trouble than he usually could imagine. Magnus had laughed when he had told him, had shrugged and had kissed him, and Alec had long resigned himself to the fact that Jace just _had_ to be the center of attention no matter what. But when he saw smoke rising from the barred windows of the old hotel he knew once again his best friend's instincts had brought them right to the place they wanted to be.

The hotel wasn't as much as fire as it seemed to be lit from within. Red and silver, the light reminded Alec of something painfully familiar. Jace was already scrambling over the ratty construction fence that kept unwanted trespassers but not frantic Shadowhunters on the right side of the street. He headed directly for the barred windows. Cursing, Alec followed on his heels, his danger senses prickling precariously. Jace had not even reached the windows when a dark shadow tackled him from the side. The scent of werewolves permeated the air, a growl, Jace was wrestling a Downworlder on the ground and Alec saw no entrance to help him. The wolf scent mixed with garbage and rot.

"I got it, Alec!" His parabatai hissed. "Check the windows!"

With one last glance backwards, Alec turned on his heels and ran towards the windows. The wood that barred them was old and stone-hard, he clenched his teeth and pulled with all his might and with a satisfying, thundering noise a piece came off. The crack he had caused barely was enough to see anything, it was halfway covered with dusty, cracked glass but a last gap left him with the view of an old, unused room that might have been used for evening galas or such events once. The light definitely came from inside the room. Red and silver flames were dying down to crackling embers and shadows were rising up threateningly. People rose from them, like shadows themselves, with the grace and agility only few had... _Nephilim_, Alec thought with a sigh of relief. And then he caught sight of a Hunter who was holding Cassidy up by his throat, his other hand ready to strike. A flame lit the blade, a blinding flash of steel in a dark world.

_Traitors. _

He whirled around again, every muscle poised. Behind him, Jace had finished with the werewolf. A wave of darkness, soundless as shadows, approached behind him. Jace did not pay attention, for once, and Alec knew why: the incidents inside the hall were more important to him right now. It shouldn't, really - figures were emerging from the mist of the demon stench. Wolves, yes, and demons. And more.

"Are they in there?" Jace yelled. For a second Alec seriously contemplated not telling him right away. They had enough on their minds – a demon came at him, his fangs bared and dripping with venom and Alec was otherwise occupied. It took him a few seconds to get rid of it while Jace disbanded another werewolf and a vampire. _Why the hell are they working together_.

"Alexander!" Jace's tone was urgent, his voice a plea. Alec risked another look into the room and froze.

On any other day he would have said what he saw was impossible. But there she was, Teresa, her jacket torn and bloody, she looked as if she had been tortured for weeks. As if to match the image her cheeks were hollow and sunken, her eyes dark pools in her face, and her hair danced around her like it had a life of its own. She came right out of a circle of fire, the source of the weird light, but she did not _walk_ out of it. She seemed to float instead, rising higher and higher, until she reached a maximum height and started to descend. As she did so her speed grew, she hit the ground with a sound Alec could still hear outside. He almost could _feel_ the ground shaking. She landed in a crouch and straightened again in one fluid motion, her hair still moving like in the gusts of an invisible wind. But the most terrifying things were her eyes: there was nothing in them but emptiness. Alec shuddered. Teresa lifted her hand and the Nephilim holding Cassidy was blasted away, he crashed into the wall a few meters behind her and crumpled to the ground silently. Cassidy staggered back, clawing at his throat. Teresa did not waste a moment; she turned towards the other attackers and Alec watched in awe as she started decimating them. He had always known she was a brilliant fighter, just like Jace was, but this was more than anyone would ever have imagined. He didn't think it was _human_ anymore.

"Alec, I'm going in!"

Behind him, Jace had taken care of the last vampire, a demon was fleeing but neither one of them cared to stop it. With a nod Alec took off, Jace hard on his heels. Somehow he didn't doubt Rese wouldn't be able to hold her ground against the small army of Night things and Shadowhunters attacking her. The most terrifying thing, he thought, had been the _wings_. Crystal-clear, life-sized wings that grew from her back, each feather outlined and shining in the reflected light of the last silvery flames that were dying down. Somehow he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened. But he really, _really_ wanted to make sure his little sister was safe.

Alec never made a difference between Izzy, Jace, Rese, Max and Clary. Even Cassidy, one way or another, belonged to his family. Perhaps it was because he always had watched her from far but Teresa always had his attention. She seemed so different, so breakable. He knew nobody thought of her like that, and yet. No matter what had happened to her she would always be like a little sister to him, just like Izzy. Magnus had told him once his strength was the fact that he did not doubt – and Alec had gone and proven him wrong. It had taken a lot to fix their relationship but he had done it, somehow. But when it came to family there was not a trace of doubt in Alexander Lightwood. He made no difference between his blood siblings and his adopted siblings. Even Clary had quickly become a part of him. Someone who hurt one of them, no matter who it was, would pay. And right now there was no good or evil, no right or wrong. Rright now Alexander only saw Rese's bloody and burned arms and hands and Cassidy, who was grasping around the room blindly, and he attacked.

…

It was an almost tangible feeling.

Cassidy concentrated on every last ounce of energy he had and pushed it into the link that had opened between him and Teresa. As it was, he was useless in the fight: he didn't even see his own fingers clearly. Never before had he cursed his eyes as much as today. So he reached deep into himself into the well of power he knew was there, drew from it and prayed it would be enough to keep Rese going.

They just had to survive. She could kill him later.

…

Jace stopped dead at the door of the hall and felt Alec slam into him. His parabatai was far heavier than Jace was so he stumbled forward a few steps and rightened himself again, still shell-shocked. The hall was a _mess_. There were bodies strewn everywhere. Two burnt and charred circles in the old wooden parquet floor indicated there had been a rune circle there at some time, though he couldn't say what kind of circle. The scent of burnt flesh hung in the air heavily and thick and made him gag. And in the midst of it all Teresa was fighting three Nephilim at the same time, her hair in complete disarray, her clothes torn and discolored by something that could only be blood, and she held not a single weapon. Jace's mind took all in and turned blank.

Later, he dimly remembered throwing himself into the fight, as it was, Alec, Rese and he were barely enough to keep the seasoned Nephilim at bay. He did not know how long it took but at one point there was a loud noise and doors and windows shattered, cool night air created a storm of ashes and dust and more Shadowhunters entered the fight. Until the end of his life Jace would not care how they had known where they were.

Jace dimly remembered Maryse take on the apparent leader of the traitors with eyes that were terrifyingly cold.

Jace dimly remembered Clary and Izzy back to back, fighting and dispelling dozens of demons.

Jace dimly remembered Robert asking, _Court-martial or hand them over to the Conclave? _And Maryse answering, curtly, _Restrain them. _The familiar green light of a Malachi configuration flashed. Jace thought he saw Cassidy flinch.

Jade dimly remembered Alec shouting a name and storming forward, and then everything snapped back into focus:

Teresa fell, almost elegantly, a bird shot in mid-flight. Her fall seemed to last for hours, or so it felt. Alec caught her before she hit the floor and carefully placed her down, keeping her head rested on his arms. Jace thought he saw wings behind his sister but he did not care, not at all. All he could think was that she had to be alive, he _needed_ her to be alive, he didn't care what it cost-

"Shhh, Jace, calm down. Jace, _calm down. Jace._"

Alec was saying his name, over and over again, Jace found himself on his knees next to Rese, frantically feeling for a pulse.

"_Jace._"

Now, Alec's voice was sharp. Jace looked at his best friend blindly and he snapped into focus, his forehead was creased in worry. "You won't help her that way. Take a breath and let me have a look."

Casting around for something useful to do, Jace groped for his stele. "She needs an Iraze-"

"She needs nothing until we haven't determined what is wrong with her," Alec interrupted him firmly. "Now move aside."

Carefully, he placed her onto the ground and started checking her vitals. Jace watched, his eyes wide in terror, only barely registering that Robert was supporting Cassidy, who seemed barely able to stand. He helped him to sit down next to Rese and checked his pulse, as well.

Something touched Jace's arm and he jumped. Wide-eyed, he stared down at Cassidy. The Shadowhunter's eyes were unfocussed, looking right through him.

"Jace?"

"Yeah." Jace barely managed a hoarse whisper. Cassidy did not sound better.

"Is she okay?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Anger surged through him, hot and searing. "What happened here, in the name of the Angel, why didn't you protect her?"

"Jace."

Clary's hand, warm and familiar, and all the heat of battle was sucked out of him at once and left him weak and trembling. He turned and buried his face in her hair, not caring who watched.

"She can't die," he whispered. "She just _can't_."

"It's okay," Clary said, her hand caressing his arms, running up and down gently. Her voice was soothing. "Let Alec and Maryse take care of her."

Maryse, who had come over as well was now kneeling next to her son. Side by side, their dark hair mingled in a way that made it impossible to say where one of then started and one ended. They were checking Teresa for other injuries, carefully running a sensor over her, feeling for broken bones, cleaning a stab wound in her side. It seemed to take hours until she sighed and looked up. Everybody seemed to hold his breath.

"She has a few internal injuries, cracked ribs and such, nothing a bit of sleep and an Iraze cannot take care of. What worries me…" Maryse bit her lip, a sign of insecurity she seldom allowed herself and which made her and Isabelle look even more alike. "She's showing signs of complete dehydration and severe tissue damage in certain places. And she is completely drained."

"Malachi configuration," Cassidy rasped. Everyone turned to him, frowning. "They tortured her in one," he explained.

Jace felt as if every bit of breath had been sucked out of him. He clenched his fists. "Those sick…"

Clary's hands restrained him before he could dash towards the imprisoned Nephilim. She was so strong, when had she become so strong? She'd been a weak mundane when he first had met her, unable to even free herself from the glamor her mother had placed on her. Now she matched him in her power, perhaps not in strength yet but in surely determination. It gave her the strength to hold him back and to look at him with such a deep understanding in her eyes and he wanted to scream. Jace fought for a second and then other hands joined Clary's, held him and forced him to the ground. He slumped to the floor rather ungracefully, unable to do anything for a second and then blindly grasping for Rese's hand. How long had it been that he had held it like that? He couldn't even remember.

"We'll take you home," he heard Maryse say, her voice a gentle whisper, and then she lifted up Teresa with almost no effort at all. Robert and Alec supported Cassidy and Jace was left on the floor, Clary's hand still stroking his hair. With a heaving of his chest he turned to her and again buried his face in the crook of her neck. His heart raced but he did not cry.

Izzy and Clary brought him home. It was the next part of the night he barely remembered.

…

When Teresa woke up, the sickbay of the Institute was dark and silent.

She recognized it almost instantly: familiar beds, familiar curtains, even the scent was familiar. _Home. _She had long ago stopped wondering how she could have fallen for this place when she had always known homes were places that could be taken from you all too easily.

Jace was asleep in the armchair at the side of her bed. The warmth that shot through her was expected and welcome. He looked tired, even in his sleep, his fists clutched and his forehead set in a frown. This was her brother, who couldn't even stop worrying about her when asleep. Did Clary seem him like that sometimes, she wondered. Many things had changed since they had come to the Institute but one thing would never change: looking at him, she felt at peace, calm and safe. If there was anything in this world she trusted in it was the knowledge that he would be there for her as long as he was alive. He had given a part of himself to Clary – it did not matter. Rese's claim was older. But it was soft, too, and allowing. She would love them both, with every breath she took. Jace's golden hair was in disarray, his face haggard, as it was he seemed to look worse than she felt. She lifted her hand to push away a strand of hair and almost cried out when pain shot through her, hot and burning. On the other side of the room, something moved.

Teresa whirled around – or tried to – and found herself face to face with Cassidy.

They were only separated by the gap between the two beds in the room. The curtain was drawn. In the dim darkness of the room there still was enough light for her Shadowhunter eyes, she could see every curve, every shadow of his face. He was wearing unfamiliar glasses, his spare set, she guessed. Runes stood out vividly against his pale skin, shone from underneath his grey T-Shirt. The green of his eyes bore into hers and she felt her heart pick up speed painfully.

"Did I wake you?" She whispered.

Cassidy shook his head, then shrugged, then nodded apologetic. "Well, somehow, yes, I suppose."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

He made an uncertain gesture, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Can't you feel it?"

Frowning, Teresa focused on herself. She felt better than she had thought, the pain from the sudden movement before abating. She guessed she would be okay if she took care for the next few days. She had a dim recollection of Maryse and Robert fighting Theo, of Alec shooting demons from the gallery that surrounded the room, of Clary and Isabelle having her back. Jace's voice, calling out for her frantically, hands and lights and sounds. An overwhelming fire, her entire self driven by one thought only- But the fact that she was back at the Institute meant everything was fine, or, at least, would be. Because he was there, to... But the sudden intensity in Cass's gaze scared her. Hesitantly, she reached out with her senses -

- And jerked back violently.

Somehow she had reached out with her hand, as well, she pulled it back and wrapped her other hand around it, cradling it to her body as if she had burned it. Wide-eyed and terrified she stared at Cassidy and he held her gaze even though shame and guilt were slowly seeping into his emotions. It was a wild cocktail: confusion and stubbornness and necessity all mixed, but shame was the foremost thing. And she felt more. She felt a faint sense of him that had nothing to do with her own gift, something akin to a draw that led her to him no matter what direction she ran. It was like a red thread, linking them to each other, originating somewhere deep within her. The shame she felt from Cassidy she detected with her gift but the soft pulsating of life came via this new connection. It was a closeness she had never thought of, never even expected she would feel at one point in her life.

_I did not want this._

Terrified, she used her mind to tear at the thread and felt both Cassidy and herself jerk back at the pain that shot through them, through their combined selves. It threw both of them back and left them shaking and breathing hard.

"Outch," Cassidy whispered and rubbed his chest. They both knew it wasn't the source of the pain but it seemed appropriate to her, too. Pressing both her hands against her own chest, she felt her shivers intensify.

"What," she whispered, "In the name of everything that is holy, have you _done_?"

Defensiveness mixed into his emotions, an unbearable hint of pride that he had found a solution to their dilemma and had saved them, it was quenched immediately by the calm control she knew so well. Stubborn belief that he had done the right thing, that he did not regret anything. In a way, he was right, and it made it even worse. Their connection splintered into a million needles that seemed to bury themselves into her heart. Teresa was unable to hold his gaze so she jerked her eyes away and stared at the wall on the other side of the room without seeing anything. The thread, though, still gave her a sense of his presence. It terrified her that she suddenly _knew_ he was there, even without using her empathy, that she could pick up on traces of how he felt and where he was. It was a whole new experience. If she'd ever thought empathy was the closest thing to sharing something - she was proven wrong now. This went deeper, further than anything she ever had imagined, and combined with her gift she felt as if he _knew_ her, as if Cassidy knew her better than herself. It scared her so much her entire body froze. And with a terrible sense of foreboding she knew that she would forever miss the feeling, the knowledge that he was close and he was okay, if she lost it now.

It made her hate him even more.


	7. Fallout

_I apologize for the wait. I had one hell of a month. Two chapters to go. Credit for one line goes to Natsuki Takaya, Fruits Basket. Anyone knows what line I'm talking of?_

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Fallout**

The concept of parabatai is age-old.

Older than them. Nobody can tell quite when it started, anymore, it is a little bit like the one show Simon and Clary love so much. _Star Wars. _Nobody can quite tell why Jedi aren't allowed to marry anymore but it's a law and laws are obeyed. Similarly, history can be read: Perhaps Jonathan Shadowhunter forged the parabatai bond with his sister for the first time in Nephilim history, perhaps it was developed later. The words are as old as the ceremony. The fact that they have managed to cast the parabatai bond without the proper ceremony – and without the consent of the Conclave! – is more than the Council can take. But no matter what they discuss, no matter how often they call them to speak before the Conclave, no matter how many trials they hold: there is one thing they will not be able to change. They are parabatai now, bound to each other for life.

Forcing Rese into that kind of bond had been a breach of etiquette, Cassidy knew very well. And yet, it had assured their survival. Besides: the linking would not have been able to proceed without her consent, no matter how unconscious she had been. Had Teresa rejected him flat-out they would still be in the cages, waiting for Theo to give up and kill them. As it was, their chances of survival had been slim enough.

There was one thing he just didn't get.

It wasn't like Rese to be so terrified. He could sense her fear the same way he had felt her pain when she had woken and turned around, that night in the sickbay. He could feel the cold grasps of terror that held her heart. Sometimes it affected him, too. Teresa Herondale, in his mind, was one of the strongest persons he knew. Why, _why_, now, was she so afraid? She had barely talked to him during the last few days. And they had had ample opportunity since they had been called to testify in front of the Conclave again and again, only interrupted by one or two visits to the Silent City. It had been awkward, to say the least: stretches of silence in which she ignored his attempts to speak to her and only voiced the most necessary things. They had been partners before. Nothing had really changed, right? Only he could feel her fear whenever he reached out to their connection, the link that bound them inseparably now. He could feel her fear, her burning anger which she herself knew to be irrational but could not stop. It made him contemplate whether it was possible to break their link again. The only broken parabatai connection he knew of was the one between Valentine Morgenstern and Lucian Greymark and he didn't really want to turn to a werewolf or kill himself in order to give her an out. That aside, he didn't really want _her_ to kill _him_, either, so he just waited.

Waited and hoped she would see reason, someday. Preferably soon.

During their fight in the hotel he had caught a glimpse at what it felt like, being linked to a parabatai. Together, they could be amazing.

…

Maryse was still awake when someone knocked on her door.

She knew whom it would be, had expected him since long already. Two weeks had passed since the incident with Theo. He had been sentenced to imprisonment in the cells of the Silent City and Maryse could not help but feel glad.

"Welcome back, Daemon."

"Maryse." He nodded at her curtly. His dark eyes, as usual, did not reveal anything of his thoughts.

For a long while, both of them were silent. Then, finally, she took a deep breath and confronted him.

"You heard what has happened."

"I did." He eyed her, watchfully, she wanted to step aside and let his glances pass like daggers. "I also heard nothing happened to them."

Maryse almost laughed out loud. "Well, depends on your definition of _nothing._"

He did not tell her that _nothing _had a whole universe full of definitions, and if anyone knew them, it was him.

"Your adopted son," she told him, crossing the room and coming to stand in front of him. Maryse was tall, undoubtedly, but even she had to look up to look into Daemon's face. "Managed to change the runes of a Malachi configuration into the runes for a parabatai bonding ceremony." Her frown increased, as did the volume of her voice. "Without a Stele or anything else. He managed to activate the incantation and released the spell, and now my daughter has been bound to him against her will!"

Daemon did not take a step back as she attempted to spear him with her right index finger. Glowering up at him, Maryse waited. He took his time to answer.

"I believe it will do both of them good."

Unsurprised, she stepped back. "You think I don't see what you've been doing?" She glared at him, her dark hair surrounding her thin face beautifully. In another life, he thought, he could have fallen for her. Now she only reminded him of a goddess, angry and in full battle armor.

"Daemon, he's the son of a criminal. I won't say anything against it, I know I can't, Valentine was a monster, too. But Rese and Jace are not at all like him. Cassidy, tough..."

"He is just like his father." Daemon tasted ashes in his mouth. _But his eyes. _His eyes were his mother's, undoubtedly. Cassidy had everything that had made Cassian O'Rourke so different from average people, even from average Nephilim: a sharp wit, a sky-high IQ, a perfect memory, and an analytical sense so sharp not much ever escaped him. Daemon hadn't hesitated when the position at the New York Institute had been brought to his ears. He had to bring Cassidy away from there, from the place where everyone knew who he was and who his father was, a place in which he was slowly growing into a heritage he did not want but could not escape. The boy, he had feared, would have gone insane had they not left.

"It was for her as much as it was for him," he just said. It wasn't an apology, but it was one as close as one she would ever get.

Maryse shook her head angrily. "Don't pretend your motives were as pure as that," she spat. "You brought him here. You didn't give a damn about _my_ children. Teresa was close to being killed. How could you allow them to be placed into such danger?"

"They are Nephilim, Maryse," he told her without any inflection. "They go out and die. I found Cassidy, I raised him like my own son. Can you begrudge that I want him to be happy?"

"Can't you see?" She stood, a dark shadow against the glowing embers in the fireplace. "That's exactly what Theo wanted, too. He wanted his son to be happy."

"He wanted to recall him from the dead," Daemon corrected. "That's different."

"Jace returned." She was very, very white.

"I know. But it was different, again. Maryse." He said it silently, softly, but his eyes gazed at her intently. "I know you are mad at me. You fear for her, for all of them. Believe me, I did not want to bring them together like that. But it happened, and they survived. There is nothing more you can ask for."

"Against her will, Daemon. I have no idea how Cassidy managed to activate the incantation but I know for a fact that Teresa would not have agreed to be his parabatai, given the choice."

"Why not?" He still didn't understand that one conundrum. Clearly, a part of Teresa had agreed, be it through sheer necessity or through her own free will. Without her consent, the evocation would not have had any effect whatsoever. And yet he could see her clear dislike at the situation she had found herself in. If she did not want to be bound do Cassidy, why had the ceremony worked?

But Maryse did not give him any explanations. "Her reasons don't matter to you, Daemon." Her eyes shone: she seemed older than him, suddenly, for a second he could see centuries in her eyes and not merely decades. When it came to centuries he had enough experience, but why her? "Would you want to be bound to a person you did not know, feel what he feels, see what he sees? They've only known each other for a year. Alec and Jace have spent their childhood together and you know that." Defeated, she slumped over, caught herself on her desk. "I don't want to watch my children go through hell and back again and again and again."

"Let's hope the next time we can save them the trip," Daemon answered and left her, in the dim darkness of her office. Left her alone with all her doubts and fears.

Was it what a mother always experienced? Probably. Maryse just couldn't help but wish she could save her children all those thorny steps, all those mistakes. How beautiful would it be could she show them the easiest path to the kind world she wished for.

"Maryse," Robert said and she jerked upright; she hadn't heard him come. Her husband stopped short, on the other side of her desk, and glanced at her. His dark eyes went all the way through her. For the first time since long, she looked at him: he seemed older, but inwardly, he still was the same. His lips twisted into a sad smile. Wordlessly, she held out her hands. Robert came around the table and wrapped his arms around her, held her like he hadn't done for years. He held her and she clung to him and wondered what, really, had changed.

And then she stopped thinking.

…

Conversations with Cassidy were strewn all over her memory like pieces of glass from a broken window.

_Like:_

"So."

She looked at him, wordless. Sometimes people became insecure when she just waited but he didn't emit embarrassment. There was a cool, not entirely pleasant detachedness in him instead.

"It seems we're the only ones left. Would you like to train?"

A certain amount of curiosity, among other things, and wariness.

Teresa nodded, thoughtfully, with the same amount of caution. "A test-fight?"

His eyes lit up. "Perfect."

_Or:_

"What is wrong with your eyes?"

He turned to her so fast he stepped into her personal space. Teresa took two steps back but otherwise held her ground and his hostility and surprise faded into a dim sense of resignation. And into something else, something dark and threatening.

"Why?"

"Well, hunter eyes usually are good without glasses but you're practically blind without them. If you were injured once, it should have healed already."

"You noticed." The respect in his voice was vague but there. "Not many notice. Fewer ask."

"Will you answer?"

He looked at her, his green eyes unreadable. His emotions expanded in to a swirling ocean of darkness and she took a step back involuntarily. He did not notice.

"My father had many enemies. Someone cursed his offspring. It's probably luck I'm his only child."

"That's…" She didn't find any words to answer.

"Yeah, well. He wasn't a nice man." He walked away without looking back. Teresa ran to the bathroom and was violently ill.

_Or:_

"Do you feel like the fifth wheel sometimes?"

"Huh?" His emotions were clear as glass. Perhaps it was why she did not understand his question.

"Jace and Clary," he clarified. "Isabelle and Simon. Maia and Jordan. And Alec and that Warlock."

"Magnus," she said automatically. "No. Why?"

"Just wondering." He shrugged, as if it made no difference. His feelings told her otherwise.

_Or:_

"Don't be angry with her."

Teresa was fuming and she knew she had every right to. Cassidy watched her from the other side of the room. Amusement was rolling off his aura in thick, playful waves and it made her even angrier.

"It's none of your business," she spat back at him.

Arching his brows he pretended he didn't feel the tiny pang she could feel rolling through him like a wave on a calm beach.

"It isn't."

He didn't apologize and neither did she.

_Or:_

"You want to go out patrolling?"

There was a host of conflicting emotions but she still asked him. Cassidy lifted his head slowly, his eyes piercing her like green thorns.

"Are you asking me?" Surprise, first and foremost. Teresa didn't answer. "Yeah, why not?" Grabbing his sweatshirt, he stood up from the table. Relief – why relief? And contentment, and the usual darkness she had come to associate with him. It scared her because she knew it would always be there, could break free any minute.

"We make a good team," he said afterwards, and Teresa turned on her heels and left him standing there. The mixture of darkness and elation made her head pound.

_Or:_

"Daemon says to check the safeways today."

"Okay." She followed him through the night, as she had done many times before, and was well aware of the swirling cocktail of anger that surrounded him.

"He wants us to stay away from the streets for a while." Pure acid dripping, not from his voice but from his words and his feelings.

"You attacked a demon in full sight of a dozen humans. Unglamoured."

"I don't remember you hanging back and clinging to the rules." More poison. It made her feel sick, as always.

"We're just laying low for a while."

Cassidy snorted. "How long is a while? It has been three weeks."

"Until Daemon says we're back on normal duty."

He threw her a glance, accompanied by curiosity and defeated acceptance. "Do you ever lose it?"

Teresa didn't answer: _More often than you know_.

_Or:_

"I brought cake."

"What kind of?" Alec immediately asked while Clary jumped up to get dishes. Isabelle, though, pierced Cassidy with a glare.

"Why?"

From her seat in the corner Rese could see an almond croissant in the middle of the paper dish of sweet cakes and muffins.

"Because," Cassidy said, "Simon told Jordan yesterday you would be cooking for him tomorrow, and Jordan let it slip today, so I figured you'd use the time to try and torture us with the inedible outcome of your first try…"

Amusement dripped from him like honey. Izzy bristled. Her emotions flared up like the needles of a porcupine, it was soft though and adorable, at least today. In the past it had felt like needles actually burrowing into Rese's flesh.

"I want the chocolate chip muffin!" Max cried and Clary handed it to him while everyone started helping himself. Absentmindedly, barely even looking at her, Cassidy took the almond croissant and placed it on a dish, pushing it over to where Teresa sat.

"Well, Jordan also said…"

Small kindnesses.

_Or:_

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you here?"

He was quiet, something that told her that he had been surprised by her question.

"Because Daemon was called to the Institute and…"

"Don't lie to me," Rese said, perhaps sharper than she had intended to. His evasion, mixed with lies, burned like acid: slowly, painfully, unstoppable. Surprisingly, Cassidy slumped against the wall and slid down, burying his face in his hands.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because there is something you're not telling us." _And something that scares me. _

"Why should I tell you?"

"Either you tell me or I will take care that you are sent somewhere else."

"What if that's exactly what I want?"

She waited, wordless, because she did not need to probe his feelings to know when he was lying like that.

"It's about my father. He's not dead."

Teresa listened and, deep inside, knew they were alike. And, at the same time, completely different.

_Or:_

"Talk to me, Rese."

She tore her arm free from his grasp. Where his fingers had touched her, her skin burned, a dark, warm glow that seemed to pulsate through her. The red thread resonated, as always when he was near. From a safe distance she probed his emotions: worry, shame, defensiveness, desperation. As usual his feelings were a thick, liquid mass, but today… She paused, surprised at the silver thread that held them together, made the mass less revolting. Somehow it seemed…

"We have nothing to talk about," she snapped at him. "What you did was unforgivable."

"Even if I saved your life?" His rigid self-control showed the first sighs of cracks but he did not lift his voice. Green eyes watched her without blinking. "You are overreacting."

"You think so?" She lowered her eyes to slits. "How would you feel if I pulled out your innermost feelings and left them for everyone to see?"

"First, it's not like everyone sees them. Second, I don't get to know everything you're thinking, Rese, you know that. It's not like telepathy. We can share our strength and we know where the other is, Jace and Alec have been parabatai for years and they never regretted it."

"They entered their bond conscious and willing."

Logic would not help, he knew that much, so he suppressed it. "Teresa," Cassidy asked, and his voice was close to pleading. "Can we not get past this? I couldn't let you die. Why can't you forgive me?"

"Have you ever thought about the fact that I'd rather died that night?" She looked at him, her dark eyes cold. Cassidy shook his head and suppressed a smile, but not fast enough that she missed it.

"Try again and look at me while saying it."

Teresa froze, registering the amusement that filtered through her mind and the same sense of humor that her heart felt. It was what made her snap.

"You bastard!" She screamed, clenching her fists and keeping them tightly by her side to stop herself from pummeling him. She couldn't even _lie_ to him anymore. "You… you…" There were no words, nothing to describe her anger, the feeling of betrayal and the suffocating fear she felt.

Teresa burst into tears. It was the most humiliating moment in her life.

Cassidy let her cry, neither came closer nor left. He leaned against the wall in the corridor, two meters away from her, and sat down, his knees against his chest. Rese cried: for the person who had made her the way she was, for her twin and her brothers and her sister, whom she all had almost lost one time or another, for Maryse and Robert, for the Inquisitor who had died protecting her and Jace, for the father she'd never known. For Cassidy who was running from his father's legacy as much as she was running from Valentine's memory and who hadn't managed it in about as well as she had, perhaps she was all black and rotten inside, as well. And, finally, she cried for herself. Burying her face in her arms, she cried until she had no more tears left. For Clary, who'd been through so much, for Magnus and Alec and Simon and Jordan and Maia.

Through the exhaustion that came with having cried more than she ever had in her entire life, the emotions of the one sitting next to her filtered into her consciousness again. Dismay and hope mingled in soft colors, interspersed with flecks of gold. She wanted to shrink back but then decided otherwise and pushed a tiny bit deeper: there it was, a darkness so black she wanted to run from him screaming, an abyss so deep she could fall for eternity and still wouldn't reach the bottom. It made her feel sick. She must have made a sound, because Cassidy looked up. In the dimness of the corridor, his eyes were of a light green. And as his eyes met hers, she understood.

She'd been afraid of his darkness because she knew it only too well.

But there had been that silver thread, wrapping around everything he was, just like the red one she felt. Something like hope, something like acceptance, something very much like the feeling that he belonged somewhere, now. Belonged _with _someone. It didn't make it easier, because she was still the way she was and he was the way he was, both of them products of a broken world. It felt like Cassidy was fed up with staring into the mirror. The fact that he looked at her instead did not help her, because looking back at him hurt on so many levels. But from the bottom of her jumbled feelings, a thought arose: did she owe him to at least try?

He had saved her life.

…

Jace found his twin sister in the training hall.

She stood in the middle of the big, open room, rooted to the spot, and seemed to have closed her eyes. In the subtle shift of her shoulders he saw she had noticed his approach and knew it was him, too. Her empathy probably told her he was alone, too, which was just as well. She would have bolted had he brought any other person as backup. Not that he wanted backup. Jace wanted to talk to his sister, and the past had proven that the training hall often was just the place to do so.

"Hey, Rese."

At the sound of his voice, she looked up. A light flared up in her eyes, so small he wouldn't have seen it hadn't he known where to look for it. He smiled, too.

"Are you allowed to train again?"

Teresa nodded. "As long as I don't over-exert myself."

Jace sat down, in the middle of the training hall. From the ground, he looked up at his sister. "Come on, sit, okay?"

She followed, folding her legs carefully underneath herself. Jace decided to take the last step, too: he stretched out on the ground, folded his arms behind his head, and waited. After some time that felt like half an eternity, he heard clothes rustle and knew she had followed his example. Turning his head towards her, he smiled at her.

"It has been some time."

"We're not children anymore."

"Well." Jace shrugged. "It's not bad, being a child now and then."

Rese chuckled, a sound that had been very rare in the last weeks. He was glad to hear it again. "You'll always be part a child, Jace."

"Well, you're my twin, and you're six minutes younger. Guess that makes you a child, too, doesn't it?"

She laughed, turning to look up at the ceiling of the training hall. It was a bland, white ceiling, but how often had they lain here and watched it just like this?

"Rese, we need to talk."

She stiffened, almost visibly. "Why?"

"Have you talked to Cassidy?"

"It's none of your business."

It hurt, her defiance. Jace took a deep breath to steel himself and went on. "But it is. You're my sister. He saved your life, and I am very grateful for that. Are you still angry with him?"

It took her a while to answer. "He shouldn't have done it. Not like this."

"It was the only way he saw to save your life."

"I know." It must have cost her a lot, the admission. Jace opened his mouth to say something when she continued. "And still, I did not choose this."

He started up. "Do you think…"

"Jace," she said, reading his mind and his heart. "I know. Neither one of us chose what we are." At the tone of sadness in her voice, he was stuck silent. "It's too late for regrets, anyway."

He breathed out, a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Does that mean…"

"It's useless to discuss the topic further," Rese said, her arms coming up to cover her face. "It's not like I can reverse it, anyway. Or change how I feel about him." Her last words were merely a whisper.

It stuck him.

"You're afraid," he accused her, his voice so silent she might have overheard him. She did not. Rese visibly froze. Jace plundered on. "You're afraid of what being parabatai will mean to you, what it will mean to him, and whether you have different expectations. It's only natural since the two of you hadn't had the chance to talk it over before. But, Rese, most of all you are terrified because you are in love with him."

Absolute silence filled the hall. For a fleeting second that felt like an eternity, Jace feared he had gone too far.

Rese's fists clenched, hard, but she couldn't hide the fact that she was trembling. "That's not true."

"Are you trying to lie to me?" Jace moved towards her a bit. "Because it's useless. You're the worst liar ever, Rese, and I know you."

She didn't answer.

"What is it you are afraid of?" he asked, incredibly carefully. "Rese. Tell me."

"Does fear has to be rational?" She said, her voice hoarse, her face still covered. "I have no idea why I'm scared. I just know that it is the way it is."

Rolling over to his side, he moved closer.

"It's not a crime to fall in love with someone."

"We're parabatai now, no matter how little I like it."

"Why shouldn't you love him nevertheless?"

"People have died over this question."

"If you mean that guy who killed himself…" Jace's throat constricted.

"Yeah, I was thinking about him, too. He was weak," Rese said and he breathed a relieved sigh. "And still." She sounded defeated. "It's an age-old law: parabatai don't share a relationship other than their sacred connection. It's old, but no one ever questioned it and it won't be questioned in the near future, either. There is no way this can end well, isn't there?"

"Does he know?"

"Of course not!" Panic shook her entire frame and Jace yearned to stretch out his hand and put a calming hand on her shoulder. She rolled onto her side now as well, her frightened eyes boring into his. "No," she repeated fearfully. "How would he? He's as clueless as ever. And if you as little as breathe something of this folly in his direction, Jace, I swear…"

Reaching out, he touched her hand, grasped it in his and was stuck at how small hers felt in comparison to his.

"I won't, Rese, I promise."

"Good." She closed her eyes. Her hand held on to his tightly.

"But he's pretty smart," Jace ventured. "Don't you think he'll notice?"

"I hope he won't."

"I don't understand you," he said, shaking his head. "You love him, but you won't tell him. Okay, history's not the best indicator as to what can happen when parabatai fall in love, but it has been over one hundred years since this last was heard off and the Conclave has changed, Rese. Maybe everything would turn out right. Is it so impossible that he could fall in love with you?"

"Besides the obvious complications?" She thought about it and shook her head. "We're different. I don't think he noticed I'm a girl, more like a sister. Like Clary and Izzy."

"But don't you at least want to try? Tell him?"

Fear flashed across her face again and he almost regretted he had asked. "What would it change?"

"Maybe everything."

"Maybe nothing. He's been running from the memory of his father his whole life, Jace. He just found a place here. I won't take that away, and if it does not work out I don't think I could go on as usual."

"You sound like a coward, Rese."

"Maybe." But she sounded sure, too. Jace couldn't remember when they had last talked like that: honestly, seriously, without any reservations. It gave him a warm sensation that despite all the things they had fought against during the last year, their bond still remained intact. "I think I have to get through this whole mess first. I guess he'll still be there by then, that's more than others can say."

"True. Still, Rese…"

"No." She cut him off, sounding more pleading than strong. Her hand held on to his tightly, so small and yet so strong. "It's okay, I'll deal with it. Please, Jace, leave it at that."

He did what she asked of him. Both of them turned back onto their backs and regarded the ceiling as the silence spread over them like a comfortable companion. When Jace finally broke it, his voice was hoarse.

"Rese. Don't do that again, okay?"

"What?" She turned to him, her hair framing her face loosely. Jace swallowed, a memory of fear and worry rushing over him.

"Don't ever disappear on me like that again."

She was unable to hold his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Just take care it won't happen again."

"If you promise me the same."

Jace smiled. "I do. I promise."

"I do, too." A smile broke out over her features, too. "Let's go hunting together, when I'm allowed to go out again, okay?"

"We will, little sister."

For the first time Jace experienced something he supposed Rese felt when seeing him with Clary and Alec. _She didn't belong to him anymore. _It wasn't exactly jealousy, more a deep sense of love mixed with the knowledge that she was a person in her own rights, that she had other ties in the world than only to him. It had been like that once. Once, they had only had each other. It had changed when Maryse and Robert had adopted them, when they had come to live in the Institute and when they and Izzy, Alex and Max had become their family. They had drifted apart, on many levels: they were twins, but they were entities of their own will, too. It didn't mean he didn't love her anymore, or that they didn't understand each other. Rather the opposite. With the realization that his Teresa would never be the little girl he had known for such a long time came the knowledge that she would always be his twin: if anything, while the distance had increased between them, their bond had gained intensity.

So Rese finally had taken the last step from him, a step he had taken some time ago already. They were both on their ways, separate paths but the same direction. And maybe Jace was closer to the point he wanted to be, but only because Rese did not know yet where her place was. Some day, he hoped, she would find it. And, perhaps, she would find a person she wanted to belong to, too.

_..._

Cassidy found her.

It was easy, nowadays. She did not look up as he crept closer, alerted either by a sound he made to let her know someone was on his way or by the connection they shared. Probably by both. Her dark hair was open, falling over her tanned and marked shoulders. Despite her red top, she was almost invisible in the evening shadows.

When he stopped next to her, she spoke. "We need rules."

Surprised and amused, he nodded. "Yes. Rules are good. Definitely. Rules."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"How could I?" It was a desperate attempt to be funny, or perhaps not-so-desperate at all. She had something that made him want to make her smile, and making a fool out of himself was a starting point as good as any other.

"You are."

"Fine, I was. Sorry. Don't be mad, Rese."

"I'm not."

Cassidy just couldn't resist. "You're glaring."

"I'm _not._"

"Yes you are."

"Do you want this or…"

"Fine, fine." Lifting his hands in a placating gesture, he looked at her. Took in her face, her dark hair, her eyes that looked at the sky, at the Institute, at the Graveyard around them. Her eyes that looked at anything except for him. "What kind of rules?"

"I get to be alone when I want to."

"What, you think I'd follow you like some lost puppy? No, really, I get it. So, privacy."

"Yes."

"What else?"

Teresa risked looking at him and found his eyes focused on her face. Her mind went blank, she couldn't think of anything. "What do you think?"

"Actually, I…" He hesitated, then plunged on. "Nothing has to change, doesn't it?"

Silence.

"I mean, it's fine the way it is. You're you and I'm me, we train together, we hunt together."

"Yes."

"Great! So… More rules?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay, then let's clarify this." Cassidy took a deep breath. His emotions alerted her to what he was up to mere seconds before the words left his mouth. There was no time to prepare for it. "You're not alone, Rese. No, wait before you leave, okay? You're not alone. You'll never be. You have Maryse and Robert, Max, Izzy, Clary, Alec, Jace, even Simon and Magnus. And I am here, too. So: you're not alone. You get me?"

She didn't look at him. "And you're not going to go insane."

He stopped breathing, she could hear it. Feel it, strange and familiar at the same time. "What…"

Teresa shrugged. "It's what _this_ means. You knew what you were getting into, didn't you? And I'm telling you. You're not going to go mad. I…" She hesitated, too. "I won't allow it."

He still wasn't breathing.

"And you're not evil." She finally looked at him, met his eyes for real for the first time since the conversation had started. "You simply are _not_." Unable to hold his glance, she looked at his feet. "I just wanted to clarify, too," she whispered. It was hard, standing so close to him. It took all her will to not shy back a few meters, to widen the distance between them. When he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a crushing hug, she immediately regretted that she hadn't. Cassidy was clinging to her almost desperately, his arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides, his face buried in her hair. He was trembling, Teresa realized. Stiff as a statue, she stood in his grasp.

"_Thank you_," he whispered.

And suddenly, his arms did not feel like a cage anymore. Slowly, she lifted her right hand and gripped his T-shirt. It was shaking, too. They stood in the graveyard behind the New York Institute while the birds began their songs and the sun crept towards a new day.


	8. Epilogue - Glass Wings

**Chapter 7 - Epilogue. Glass Wings**

The night was cool and clear, a perfect pre-summer night.

The moon was beautiful. On such nights Clarissa wanted to paint the sky, the small clouds and the sparkling stars. They were only barely visible behind the skyline of New York but she had memorized their position, knew where they were now and where they would be a few hours later. It was a poor substitute to the sky over Alicante, she knew, but she loved it nevertheless.

Jace, right next to her, was watching her. As always she felt self-conscious, his golden eyes looking straight through her again and again. Tonight, he pushed a stray strand of hair that had fallen from her braid back behind her ear and smiled at her. She still had to get used to that smile, even more than a year after she had seen it for the first time. It was so open and honest it made her heart ache, and on those moments she just wanted him to hold her. Carefully, she slipped her hand into his and returned his smile.

"I'll be sick," Izzy commented from behind them and Clary shied away from Jace. Her boyfriend, though, only gasped her hand more firmly and glared at his sister.

"You are talking about you and Simon, I suppose."

Isabelle laughed, a high, bell-like sound Clary associated with her stepsister. Or something. Who knew what they actually were. Izzy threw her heavy braid over her shoulder, her silver dress was hugging her curves, as usual, her black boots were sky-high and dangerous to look at, much less to walk in. But she seemed happy, so tall and so careless.

In a way they had all shed a weight, Clary supposed.

Since the two days in which Rese and Cass had been missing, something had settled into place. It was as if they all were able to understand each other better now, as if the cloud of restraint and cautiousness that had always hung over them without them noticing had disappeared. It had not vanished completely, mind you. Sometimes Clary still saw Izzy looking at Rese with traces of bitterness, and Rese still withdrew at the first sign of affection being extended towards her. Jace still could be arrogant and willful, forcing his plans on them like he always had, and Alec could hang back in the most normal situations, looking left and right and wondering whether it was the right direction he was going in. Cassidy – well, the year he had been with them Clary had not yet managed to grasp him entirely. He was like a slippery eel when it came to it. But she was pretty sure that events like the ones they had been through didn't leave anyone unchanged, so perhaps she just wasn't the right person to assess him.

In the back of her mind, Jace and Izzy resumed their playful bantering. Clary cast her thoughts into another direction.

Alec wasn't with them right now. But they were on their way to where he was. Tonight they weren't hunters, weren' merely Nephilim. Tonight they were just teenagers going out, having fun together. It seemed a bit strange, especially since Clary could see the runes on Jace's arms, the heavy chains of silver around Isabelle's wrists, the Angel blades at Rese's side and the daggers hidden away under Cass' long sleeves. Clary herself was only armed with her stele. For her, it was enough. Either way they wouldn't need any weapon tonight, except perhaps to keep a few drunk werewolves in check. From what gossip had told them about Magnus' parties – and from the one Clary had attended herself – she knew one had to be prepared for _everything_.

Maryse hadn't been happy, but she'd let them go. "At least you can watch out for each other," she had mumbled and had promised Max they would have a DVD evening, since he was not allowed to go anywhere near a Downworlder party.

"So what," Clary heard Cassidy ask and imagined his trade-mark raised eyebrows, "Happened the last time you attended such an event? Because Maryse did not seem happy to let you go."

Rese shrugged, Clary could only see her back. "There were… _complications._"

"That's an understatement," Jace barged in on their conversation. It was something she had noticed since Rese and Cass had come back, the change Jace was undergoing. He didn't seem to have realized it yet but it was obviously there, clear for Clary to see. She supposed Rese knew about it as well. She seemed to take it well. though. How many other people, Clary mused, had noticed Jace was becoming increasingly protective towards his twin sister, even more so than he had ever been, and only in the presence of one certain Cassidy? She suppressed a giggle. It was so damn _adorable_.

"You know, there was a certain mundane girl who just didn't know when to stop…"

"I remember the story differently," Clary defended herself, now grinning broadly. "It started with an arrogant Nephilim who believed he could just have what he wanted…"

"Excuse me while I am sick. Once again." Isabelle rolled her eyes and went faster so she could catch up with them. "Well, to say it bluntly, Simon got changed into a rat. As you can imagine, he was a real party-pooper."

They all laughed, even Rese. Cassidy looked mildly terrified. "What did he do?"

"He drank a Fairy Cocktail," Clary told him. "Just make sure to steer clear of the green ones."

"Yeah," Izzy added. "The pink ones might imprison you in Magnus' house forever until you find the love of your life." She shook herself. "Imagine the torture."

Jace groaned. "Believe me when I tell you that the reruns of Gilligan's Island are plenty and so _not_ worth your while."

"Am I allowed to drink _anything_ at that party?" Cassidy asked.

"Let me think," Isabelle said and pretended to do just that. Then she snapped her fingers, as if she just had a revelation. "No."

"When were you going to tell me that?"

Isabelle, Jace and Clary burst into laughter while Rese merely shrugged. "Sometime tonight, I guess."

"You," Cassidy threw them a scathing look, "Are truly evil."

"We try our best," Jace said modestly. "Anyway, you're not as stupid as Simon, and you know your way around night things."

"Aww, thank you," Cassidy returned mock-sarcastically. "And, if anything happened, I'm sure Rese would save me."

"What!" Jace's face was so priceless Clary laughed out loud, and so did Isabelle and Rese. She did not miss the surprised glance Cassidy shot at his partner, and realized it had been the first time since long that Rese had laughed, actually laughed, freely and open.

"Maybe I will," Rese said, unaware of the fleeting moment.

Or perhaps very aware. Clary never could be sure with her. Since she, Jace and Rese shared Ithuriel's blood, there was little that they did not know about each other. Of all of them, Clary knew, Rese had had to encounter the greatest obstacles, once she had come across the other girl pounding the hell out of a helpless sand bag and had first thought she was panting with exertion. Only then she saw the tears on the other girl's cheeks. It was wonderful to see her now, so much freer, so much more relaxed than she had ever seemed since the day they had first met. Hazarding a guess, Clary would name Cassidy as the reason for Teresa's change. But since she could imagine their reactions – a "Him? Never!" from Jace, a meaningful eye-roll from Izzy, a surprised silence from Cassidy and a terrified reaction from Rese – she resigned herself to silence. Besides, there still was one last bridge to cross, and she hoped to God it would go smoothly.

"What does that mean, maybe?" Cassidy inquired, blinking. Clary, realizing how little time actually had passed since her thoughts had gone on a rampage, focused just in time to see Rese shift to the side, a tiny little bit. Cassidy had leaned over and invaded her personal space, the reaction was typical for Teresa. Still, Clary thought, the shift was not as big as it used to be, Rese's retreat not as far as she had used to back away.

"That means that, depending on what you have brought on yourself, I might just watch the scene enfold," Rese returned and casually put her hands into her jeans pockets. "As you said, I'm evil like that."

"Isabelle," Cassidy turned to her and his most charming smile graced his features. He was handsome when he smiled. Still, nothing compared to Jace's blinding smile. But perhaps to Rese, it was the other way round. "You would save me, would you?"

"Huh?" Izzy looked up from her cellphone. "What's the matter?" She found all of them watching her and – blushed. Isabelle Lightwood actually _blushed_.

"A text from Simon?" Clary teased her. Izzy pocketed her phone and straightened her back, her nose going higher and higher until she looked down on Clary.

"That is none of your business."

"Of course not." Clary dragged out the vowels until Isabelle caved, smiled and linked arms with her.

"Come on. They're already waiting for us."

…

Of course, they did not reach Magnus house without any incidents. It would have been, Clary thought, pretty unusual if they actually had. But with their unfailing sixth Shadowhunter sense they stumbled right into a heated argument between a weirn and a fairy knight.

"Hey," Jace said, taking a step and putting Clary behind him. Usually she did not mind his displays of chivalry, it made her feel protected. Only sometimes, she mused, it would have been nice had he acknowledged that she was a Nephilim, too. "What do we have here?"

"This is none of your business, Nephilim," the weirn growled.

"You just made it our business." Cassidy stepped next to Jace, his right in the shadows to hide he was already holding his kindjal. On both of the boys the runes suddenly were glowing, a faint, silver light which, as Clary knew, only she could see. They were beautiful, both of them, in their own, unique ways: dangerous and ethereal. A lion and a panther, perhaps that was a good comparison. Next to them, Izzy's whip lay coiled in her hand like a golden snake, if anything, Izzy was a lioness, poised and ready to protect her cubs. Rese was a wolf, silvery and proud, Clary saw them in their shadowed glory and felt her throat tighten. She had never loved them more than that moment.

"Run along, little angel children," the fairy knight said, his voice surprisingly melodic. He and the weirn now stood shoulder to shoulder. It was amazing how fast a fight among night things would turn into a fight in which the night stood united against the Nephilim. But it was only two night things and five of them, and besides: Clary knew, with the same foreboding that told her about her family, that those creatures were no threat for them tonight.

This was _their _night.

"I got it," she heard Rese tell her brother, a feral grin spreading over her face, and then she just _leaped_ over the two boys and landed, feather-soft, in front of the weirn and the knight.

Surprise shattered both their expressions. It was only understandable. The clear, crystalline wings that simmered in the air around Rese had even the Nephilim, who had seen it a few times already, hold their breath in awe. Rese landed in a crouch and stood, agile like the huntress she was. For a second Clary saw her wings linger, then they disappeared: the beauty of it took her breath away.

"May I? Please?" Teresa turned back to Cassidy and Jace with a pleading tone and a cocked head. Clary knew she was setting up a play. But both men seemed stunned at her sight, so she stepped forward and Izzy followed her suit.

"Why not?" Clary said, shrugging carelessly.

"Yeah, go ahead," Izzy echoed. "Just remember, don't go too far. The last time we had to pick up all those pieces… Urgh." She shuddered dramatically.

"Great! I'll only need a minute," Teresa said and turned back to her prey. Clary couldn't see her face but she could see the weirn and the knight. The two of them seemed to have lost any droplet of color they had in their face, and, mind you, she wouldn't have thought a fairy could turn even paler. "So what, again, was the problem here?"

The two Downworlders hastened to defuse the situation. "Nothing, really…" "Just a little misunderstanding…" "Nothing we couldn't solve…"

"Oh." Rese sounded disappointed. "Well then, too bad. I was looking forward to a little excercise… I guess not tonight. You two better move, before I change my mind."

Something in her voice made Clary want to sink to the ground screaming with laughter. She contained herself until the two really scrambled away, more terrified than she could have made them by making her threat come true. Rese stared after them, her brow furrowed.

"Was it too much?"

"Oh Rese!" Izzy burst first, hugging her sister tightly.

"That was amazing!" Clary joined in, wrapping one arm around Izzy, one around Rese. "I didn't know you had what it takes to be an actress!"

"Sometimes I surprise myself," Rese said, serious again, but the grin still danced in her eyes. "Well, anyway, problem solved. Let's go, Alec and Magnus will be waiting."

She and Izzy went, Izzy chatting aimlessly. Clary threw Jace a look. He was still staring at his sister, his expression so conflicted she wanted to hug him.

"Jace," she called quietly but he still startled, as if she had woken him from a long dream.

"Coming." He hastened to catch up with her. When he did, he was still shaking his head. "Sometimes I don't recognize her anymore," he complained.

Clary chuckled. "Don't be too surprised. She's still your sister."

Grumbling, Jace continued on. Clary threw one last glance back at Cassidy who still stood there, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Don't pretend you don't know what happened," she told him. "Come on, Cass."

He did.

…

Later that evening, after Simon and Izzy had sung a karaoke duet and had made several glasses shatter, after Cassidy had barely avoided being abducted by a harem of female vampires and after Magnus had attempted to turn the hair of every werewolf still present shockingly pink, Clary stood in a corner of the brightly lit room. The party was slowly dying down, the last guests were finishing off the last cask of sparklingly blue wine, all in all, it had been a very nice party with fairly well-behaved guests. Clary opened the window next to which she stood and felt the soft draft of the first summer's wind. On her heated skin, it felt wonderful. Jace joined her not far after, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. Clary leaned into him.

"Are you tired?" He asked, quietly. Clary shook her head, she hadn't been that awake since long. Everything felt crystal-clear, sharp and focused. A little bit like Rese's wings, she thought and chuckled at her own imagination.

"This is perfect," she said. "Let's just stay here."

"Fine with me," Jace answered and leaned down, and when his lips touched hers she felt the now-familiar, still amazing sensation of exploding fireworks and warm, caramel-sweetened coffee in her stomach. Jace kissed her slowly, patiently. They still had time for fire and passion. There was no desperation left, no anger, just him and her and a world of futures that belonged to them alone. To them and to the people they loved. Clary thought of her mother and Luke and suddenly wanted to see them.

"I'll visit Mom tomorrow," she told Jace and felt him shift. It was okay. She had come to terms with the fact that Jocelyn and Jace might never become friends. But the accepted each other, that was enough for her.

"I'll come with you," he said and she was so surprised she looked up abruptly. His golden eyes were sparkling with love for her – and she saw nothing but honesty in them. Then they dimmed. "That is, if I don't have to keep an eye on that guy over there."

Following his gaze, Clary saw Rese on the other side of the room. She was leaning out of another open window, her hair dancing in the night air. She seemed entirely by herself, lost in her own world, and Clary and Jace both watched Cassidy approach and lean down next to her. For a second, nothing happened. Then Rese scooted aside a tiny little bit to give him space, and then they stood again without moving. From across the room it was impossible to say whether they were talking or not. Clary had a hunch that they weren't. Anyway. She couldn't stop noticing that Cassidy's shoulder was dangerously close to Teresa's, and Rese did not move away.

"You will leave the two of them alone," she told Jace, smiling.

He growled. "I don't like it."

"That's sweet, it really is. But you'll still leave them."

Jace glared at her for a few seconds and Clary glared right back. Then he sighed as the air seemed to rush straight from his lungs. "Fine. But if he does _anything_ to her, even _touches_ her…"

Pulling his head down, Clary kissed Jace, carefully and sweetly, and then nestled into his arms again. Simon and Isabelle were laughing uproariously at a joke Magnus must have told, even Alec's lips twisted into a smile. Magnus grabbed his lover's face and pulled him down, kissed him passionately in full sight of what was left of the party guests, and Alec blushed to the roots of his hair. Cassidy and Rese still leaned out of the window, Rese still glancing at the stars, but Cassidy was looking at her. It would take some time, she knew, but it would work out. Already, they were perfect for each other, just like Izzy and Simon were, like Alec and Magnus were and she and Jace. Clary thought of Max, asleep in his little bed, and of her mother and Luke, who had suffered so much they both had not believed in a second chance anymore. But they had gotten it right, in the end. And Robert and Maryse – what would happen to them? She couldn't say, couldn't know. Could only hope. Valentine was gone, his shadow was gone, Sebastian and Lilith were gone and Theo and his supporters were gone. Realistically, Clary knew that there never would be an end to her job. She was a Shadowhunter, they all were. They protected mankind from demons and Downworlders. It was in her blood, she would not want it otherwise. And she was happy, she really was.

There would be new fights to come, some day, but there would also be happiness like this, however fleeting. They would take it all.

"Somehow," Clary whispered, "I get the feeling very interesting times are yet to come."

And she found she was looking forward to them.


End file.
